


The Forsaken

by DPS



Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Notre-Dame de Paris | The Hunchback of Notre-Dame - All Media Types, The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)
Genre: Abusive Claude Frollo, Adorable Quasimodo, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort Reading, Edgar Allen Poe referanced, Eventual Smut, F/M, Feminist Themes, Fiery redhead, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, for the 1480s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 04:04:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8782270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DPS/pseuds/DPS
Summary: In the year 1482 there was a man who lived in a tower, and a woman destined to save him. The storybooks have twisted the reality through the ages, but the truth is evident to all who find sanctuary within the walls of Notre Dame de Paris to plead for love, forgiveness, and strength. Or, for everyone who believes that Quasimodo deserves a chance at love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This is the first story I have ever written; I wrote it at the behest of a good friend after I had gone on a rant about how unfair it was that someone as wonderful as Quasimodo never found love and she suggested I create my own version. This is a complete story, but I am also a believer that nothing is every "finished" and I will continue to edit and add. This is for everyone who believes appearance shouldn't deter love. Please review!
> 
> Cheers, MC

 

_Prologue_

Once upon a time, as most tales begin, there was a man who lived high up in a tower. So high, no one in the city had ever laid eyes upon the illusive figure of their cruel gossip. He worked tirelessly, day and night, giving them time, music, and prayer; and yet he remained faceless to them all. He was not well loved by his admirers, oh no, but they loved to talk about his ugliness, oddness, and overall difference from themselves. He knew this, and so he barricaded himself away from the people who scorned him at the behest of his jailer.

While he lived locked away in his beautiful tower, he read stories of adventures and the world below. He was fascinated by their lives, and he knew each person in the city by name and profession, caring deeply from them all by creating their personas in his mind's eye. How sad that the people he adored were the same people who were disgusted by his mere name. You see, people dislike those they cannot understand.

That is what makes those people unique.

But I digress, back to the man in the tower. I wont lie, when I first laid eyes upon his face, I was struck speechless from fear and disgust. I, unfortunately, was raised hearing stories of this man, and since I was raised by ignorance it was all I knew of the world. I had never before seen a human with such a figure, but not long after that first meeting I realized that was what made him so special. For those of you who have read fairytales fervently, you likely already know the famous protagonist I am speaking of.

But here is something you probably didn't know; my name is Adeline Lapierre, and I am the first woman to save a man from a tower. It is quite an impressive feat, if I do say so myself.

And in this story, I am the hero.

I know, how presumptuous of me. But let me tell you the story the way it truly happened, because the rumoured story is nothing compared to what happened that fateful year in 1482 France. We faced certain-death, danger, fear, rebellion, and pain alike. We also discovered tolerance, understanding, and faith in the unknown.

Do you need anymore clues about who the man is? Let me give you one more guess, he is a world-renowned bell-ringer.

Yes, he is Quasimodo, the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

_L'arme la plus puissante dans le monde contre la haine est l'amour._

**************************

"Adeline, mon cherie, anon!" I heard as I quickened my pace down the hallway- not running, of course, as that is undignified behavior- attempting to loosen my bodice to no avail since my mother had practically caused me to asphyxiate from the tightness. I had donned on my finest dress, a red frock with velvet lining and elaborate trumpet sleeves. The deep square neck shows off just enough décolletage to be tasteful. It is beautiful, worthy of any princess, and yet I felt overwhelmed by the attention I knew I would receive because of my fine apparel. Why must I be a woman?

Ah yes, because God has blessed me. Blessed me with curves I am forced to hide, blessed me with no rights, blessed me with the curse of wearing damn dresses and skirts everywhere when I wish to wear trousers.

It is so ridiculous. And now we must attend this horrid festival, the "Festival of Fools," where they crown the most pig-headed and idiotic men and treat them like royalty for the day. Last year's king, a drunkard named Jaques, is a well known 'fondler' of the lower class women around Paris and has made quite a reputation for himself in the local workhouses and whorehouses.

Quite sophisticated, indeed.

My mother glared at me as I fixed my dress, realizing I had loosened the bodice and kirtle around my bust. After a moment of silent brooding, she simply shook her head in exasperation and gestured me to come to her so she could fasten my silver cap with a small veil on the back of my head. For the tenth time that day in her nastily high voice, she said "it will not be my fault if you never find a husband with your heathen like ways!" I huffed in annoyance. Why is she always so trite!?

Never mind I have been betrothed to one man or another all my life, I thought bitterly. I displaced my feelings for the moment in order to further aggravate my sensitive mother.

I simply smirked and shrugged, two mannerisms my mother abhorred, and said flippantly, "who knows, I may just be assumed to be a gypsy; therefore, not wife material." My mother's eyes widened, she gasped and shook her head at me in warning. I looked down with a sigh. I am never allowed to mention gypsies, as they are a supposed 'curse' to Paris. No matter how they are talented, and their lives are far more interesting than our lives of paying calls and attending formal dinners with others of the noble class we have inbred with and are related too in some way or another. Who are we to insinuate who the unworthy are? Jesus did say in John, "he who is without sin among you, let him be the first to cast the stone." Who are we to say who is a 'curse' to Paris?

Personally, I believe the 'curse' is the entire populous at large, but who is a woman to remark on such matters?

Anyway, I could easily be mistaken for a gypsy, which is probably why my mother attempts to hide my large hips and voluminous bosom from prying eyes. It is unsightly to look so "uncivilized," so I must cover up my true body, not to mention my dark auburn hair, in order to look more like the anemic French royalty. Ah yes, with their headdresses that create a dragon-esque figure and their necklaces that appear to be causing them pain from the sheer weight. Not to mention the tight dresses and underskirts that, when paired with heels, make it impossible to move.

But at least they look "civilized." Unlike me.

My deep rose colored hair falls heavily down my back in waves, when allowed out of its braided chignon. My mother always curses my hair and my coloring, my often flushed cheeks and full pink lips causing me to appear caught "in flagrant." She has attempted, and failed, to tame my wild hair since the day I was old enough to attend mass; each morning she pulls and combs to flatten the top so it appears straight and fine. After all, that is the style of the monarchy. Now she simply looks at it with distain, stating that I look to be a demon's child.

My mother, a lovely woman really; I often aspire to one day adopt her wonderful understanding of her children.

I sighed forlornly and followed my family out of our modest estate as we made the brief journey across the Seine to go to the courtyard of the infamous Notre Dame. As we walked, we encountered many joyous and rambunctious townspeople anxiously awaiting the festival. Ironically, this is the singular time in the year when being a gypsy is cause for celebration among the Parisians, as their entertainment and organization enables the festivities of the day.

As we strolled into the cheering square, I looked up, as I so often do from my window at home, to view the mysterious bell tower. They say a man lives there, and that he is made from the devil's craftsmanship. Somehow I don't believe that description. God would never allow a human to fall so lowly into the Devil's grasp if he had not sinned. It is too preposterous to consider!

No, there must be another explanation.

As I pondered quietly to myself, I felt my father place a firm, unyielding hand on my shoulder and forcibly turn me until I was faced with the object of my loathing.

Captain Phoebus, leader of the royal guard of Paris, my paramour. Ah, how we French love to love. It is so...revolting.

As a member of nobility, I have been betrothed since before my infancy to any number of unworthy candidates. Many of them died going to the Battle of Montlhéry, some for treason against King Louis XI in the Hundred Years War, and others simply fell from well-bred society through rumors of witchcraft. Captain Phoebus has been the receiver of my forced affections for the 1480s.

Honestly, it is so B.C. to have an arranged marriage. Would Medea stand for this? Oedipus? No! 

Anyways, my fiancé works under Archdeacon Claude Frollo, Monsieur Monster himself. How lovely that when we marry, I will be dubbed the high honor of spending time in the evil alchemist's company as well as my loathsome husband who wouldn't know a book if it landed in his lap. Oh joyous occasions! Such small pleasures to light up my dismal life! I almost cried out in frustration, but held my tongue as I knew I would displease my father should I act childishly. However, I could not help that a tad of my displeasure was relayed when I spoke to him.

"Bonjour Captain, to what do we owe this pleasure?" I purred in an obviously fake, saccharine sweet voice that caused him to cringe slightly and my father, who was still clutching my shoulder, to squeeze sharply in a disapproving manner. I scowled at the situation, why must I be forced into a loveless existence when it is one of the only aspects of life I truly desire!?

"I am here to maintain public order for the festival, as you know" he explained gruffly, as usual. Everything he said and did was reasonable and done efficiently with no emotion or thought. Honestly, the man is incapable of imagining anything outside of orders for his soldiers! I can't believe I am being forced to marry this brute, uncultured mongrel. My father gave me a warning look that said 'if you don't behave, you'll receive a lashing.'

I received that look quite more often that my other family members, and I simply smiled sheepishly and looked into Phoebus' blank gray eyes with a scowl. How am I ever to grow to be even fond of him when he has no emotions? He is attractive enough, with golden hair that is tied back in a throng and his body is desirable, if one cares for such follies. He had blue eyes and a patrician profile, giving him a stern but obviously noble born face. He is tall and broad, possessing a prominent walk and a fierce temper. His courageous actions are notable, but for all those traits he lacks in the ones that matter; the ability to be passionate, caring, and unique. He is the exact same as every other solider there ever has been and ever will be.

Not that it matters, my father arranged my marriage to be in favor of the church officials whom adore Phoebus and his winning streak in the war. And Phoebus is in love with my name and dowry.

And so I am sold to the highest bidder. A pretty prize.

I fought down my thoughts for a later time and smiled, what I hoped was a genuine smile, willing him to excuse himself and ride off on his horse, Achilles, to save another damsel.

Because I do not need saving. And even if I did, it wouldn't come from the likes of him!

He nodded at me cordially and then bowed slightly to my father, "Lord Lapierre, Lady Adie" he finished with a little smirk as he turned sharply and began to stride away with his self-important walk. Abâtardi!

How dare he butcher of my name in such a horrid fashion. Just as I was about to yell something rude, and most certainly unladylike, the trumpets began to blast, announcing the entrance of the Bishop and Claude Frollo. I scowled at their airy waves and cold, placating masks they wore when passing the townspeople in their elaborate black carriage. How can we bow to such hypocrites? Allow them to tell us who is merciful and deserving of forgiveness when they are guilty of gluttony and vanity! Where is God's mercy when such cowards run the church?

"I can hear the treasonous thoughts prancing through your head, cher une, so enough" my father growled lowly in his most demanding voice, pulling me away from the drunkards stumbling through the crowd as he led my mother, brothers, sister and I to the tent where the nobility were ushered to watch the festivities away from the peasants.

My family bonds over their common goal of political gain and climbing the ladder of society by any means possible. My elder brother, John, is twenty-one and is enlisting in the royal guard this upcoming summer after his training is complete. He is like my father in mannerisms, rough and unyielding. My younger brother, Pierre, is seventeen and beginning University in the fall. He is softer, kinder, and I will miss him desperately. We are the closest of all of my siblings, and even then we are estranged from one another, since my mother does not approve of our adventures or radical ideas of happiness and rights for the people. Both of my brothers are large and burly, like my father, with dark brown hair and a square jaw-line, with full beards to match. My youngest sibling, Mary, is thirteen and like my mother in every manner. Stubborn, close-minded, and easily angered; honestly their emotional reactions make them easy targets for teasing. She is beautiful, with fine golden hair and small brown eyes, and my mother adores doting on her.

As for me... Well, I do not belong. I am nineteen, stubborn for all the wrong causes and, worse of all, a rebel-rouser.

I loathe my feeble existence. I have spent my entire life being dressed and paraded around as an ornament, controlled by my father and demeaned by my mother, and ho! Now I will be expected to answer to a husband whom I loathe. Not that Phoebus is not a just man, for I will begrudgingly admit that he is, however he lacks the emotional resonance I require for love! Am I to live my life as an ornament, is this what God has intended for me?

I had always thought I would be meant for more than this trivial life. Alas, apparently not.

The festivities were becoming more rakish as the promiscuous gypsy woman, Esmerelda, began her sensual dance. She is a beauty, thick dark hair with a red tint and piercing jade eyes. She appears to be about my build, but is able to move without the confines of multiple layers; staring at her, the freedom of her movements with her body, her ability to express her inner sexuality, caused me to turn an unbecoming shade of green.

How I wish I could be so free! So expressive! I stared at her with the deepest loathing in my eyes, wishing only for an ounce of her beauty or openness. When I glanced over the talkative nobles from where I sat, I realized I was not the only person entranced by her rhythmic song and exotic beauty. But whereas I was staring with callous jealousy, he was staring with a look I had rarely seen- primal lust.

I shivered from the pure carnal light in the Archdeacon's eyes when he gazed at Esmerelda and turned away, unwilling to see such inappropriate sights. The man, craved for affection as he was since he was too holy and 'good' for the whorehouses, longed for her body and nothing more. It sickened me, the idea a holy man was lusting after a woman in plain sight- and a gypsy woman no less!- so I turned to observe the crowd in order to distill my troubled thoughts.

Who is that? That odd figure, under the black cloak?

Just then, Esmerelda disappeared in a mist of purple smoke and the crowd was startled into silence. Before any raucousness could befall the Parisians, the head Gypsy, Clopin, called for the candidates for the King of Fools. I sighed heavily and sat back in my chair. It is always the same; a drunken, lowlife of society who does not deserve recognition for his folly and sins. This year will be no different, I mused irritably as I drank my thick mead.

And how incredibly wrong I was.

 

******************

The gypsy men began to rile up the masses, declaring the coronation of the King of Fools was to begin. I sighed and sunk back in my chair, drinking the rest of my mead in one foul swoop to distract from the travesties of the festival. Honestly, where is the honor? The humanity? Did God send us to this world to crown fools?

For that is all He has ever done for France.

Esmerelda began to judge the foolish men on their 'ugliest' faces, the gypsies jeering at their attempts to be humorous or witty whilst prancing around the stage like a group of bumbling animals. When they had reached the end of the line, and had not received even one candidate 'ugly' enough, a crouched over man in a black cloak was dragged onstage Esmerelda, the man pulling against his captor to let him free. I immediately noticed something was amiss. Why was this man attempting to escape? The commoners adore the festival of fools! Was he simply shy? Esmerelda simply smiled airily as she held her firm grip on the man, preparing to reveal his face to the masses. My stomach began to churn in nervousness and I stared, unblinkingly, at the sight before me.

And why is he hunched over in such a way? Is he ill, perhaps? I watched for a moment longer as the cloaked man continued to struggle, but to no avail. Why won't that deplorable gypsy woman let him free!? Honestly, it is obvious he is unwilling!

Without consent his cloak was ripped from his body by a cheerful Esmerelda and the Parisians laid eyes upon the man they all knew, but had never before seen with their own eyes. A collective gasp rang through the crowd at the sight before them.

Quasimodo, the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

"Oh dear lord," I choked out in a gasp and sat back from fright as I bore witness to the deformed man. He was every bit as ugly as the stories said, deformed with a hunch and his nose quite bulbous and snout like. His skin had an translucent quality to it, as if he had rarely seen the sun's rays, however it still possessed a slightly olive tint. His stature stood no more than a horse with a height of ten hands, short for a grown man.

Of course his stature was mainly due to the large, protruding hunch that was attached to his back and curving his spinal column. The hump was bulging against his shirt as he attempting to hide his flattened face with his massive hands. His deformity turned my stomach. How could anyone walk the earth looking so revolting, so different from every other human? Is he even a human man? How has this creature lived to adulthood?

The stories around Paris said that Claude Frollo found the deformed baby, abandoned, on the steps of Notre Dame one week past Easter Sunday. He took pity on the hideous creature and raised him as his ward, naming him after Quasimodo Sunday, the day Frollo found him. The Archdeacon placed him in Notre Dame and he began his profession as the bell-ringer at the tender age of six. The stories say the fateful night took place about twenty years ago, and the Hunchback has never been seen in public. Ever.

No one would know if he still lived, if it weren't for the continuous ringing of the magnificent bells.

I was jerked harshly from my musings when my mother quickly pulled me forcibly out of my chair and towards the door of the tent, after my father and siblings, claiming she had seen enough of this travesty for one lifetime. I pulled against her grip, longing to see the Hunchback once more, but my mother's iron-clad grip was no match for me and I began to comply, walking closely next to her fast pace and ignoring the confused murmurs from the townspeople.

Did they not realize this was the Hunchback? No, obviously not. They must believe it is a mask or some other illusion. Foolish peasants, they are unable to recognize the subject of their jeers when they see it. How ignorant.

Clovis was attempting to calm the crowd, claiming that they had been searching for the ugliest face in France, and here he was! The ignorant townspeople heeded Clovis' word immediately and raised Quasimodo on their shoulders, crowing him as king and parading him about the square. I recognized all of this, but I only had eyes for the man everyone loved to hate, the man no one recognized for who he was, but me. He looked as if all the happiness in the world could not be contained in his smile, and the sheer relief in his body and face from the acceptance made me relax from the tension I had been experiencing.

Before I realized, the square was out of sight and my mother was rambling on about the unsightly performances; how the festival had become a public mockery and how the Lapierre family would have nothing more to do with the devil's handiwork. I simply nodded to placate her, all the while scheming how to make my escape to return to the festivities. Suddenly my escape came to assist me.

My fiancé, Phoebes. Lovely.

"What is troubling you, M'lady?" Phoebus asked politely from his place atop Achilles to my aggravated and frazzled mother. She pinned him with a stare and loosened her hold on my arm. A good sign.

"The trouble is, Captain, the raucous in the marketplace. I should have wished to live my whole life without being forced to face such brouhaha" she sneered in her nastily voice, "surely you should intervene?" I rolled my eyes in exasperation at her complaints.

He bowed slightly in guilt, remarking that "unfortunately, unless there is a public disturbance, I am not permitted to cease the proceedings." He glanced my way and I glared at him, as if he would get any support from me on this issue or any other issue for that matter! He simply sighed tiredly and ran his calloused hand through his dirty blonde locks in aggravation. Good.

"I must go attend to my duty of keeping my eye on the events, would it be permitted for me to request Adeline's attendance? Only until the end of the festival, of course, when I would return her straight home" he asked firmly and cordially, while my eyes lit up in shock and trepidation. Why is he helping me?

"Captain, that is quite unsuitable for a maiden, as you know!" My mother screeched, and I rolled my eyes again as I covered my aching ears. Why is my 'maidenhood' the one part of my existence everyone seems hell-bent on protecting! I will be content enough to be rid of the nuisance sooner rather than later, if it means people will cease treating me like a doll or a priceless vase.

People forget there are more important virtues than protecting your "virtue." First and foremost being tolerance.

Which leads me back to the Hunchback, and my longing to see the events unfold in the square.

"It is all quite proper, as it is a well-attended event and I will be surrounded by other nobility and church officials the entire time I am with Lady Adeline." He assured my mother, glancing at me quickly before looking away. What is he up too, I wonder?

"Yes, fine, but she must be home before the sun sets, or I shall be quite displeased" she finished with a reluctant huff, letting go of my arm as I practically ran to Phoebus in relief. Much to my displeasure, he assisted my mount and placed me in front of his muscular legs, clutching me around my waist in a manner far too familiar for my liking. Oh well, no matter, he deserves to take some liberties after saving me from the Dragon also known as my mother.

"Enjoy the rest of your day, Lady Lapierre" Phoebus said cordially as he turned Achilles to ride back into the square. Once we were a distance from my mother's watchful eye, I addressed the Captain.

"I do not appreciate you addressing me as any name other than Adeline" I said said coldly as we rode, still annoyed from the events of this morning, "and why did you nominate yourself to be my champion?" I asked flippantly, tensing when I felt his hands clutch me tighter and his breathe fan the curls on the nape of my neck.

"Because you obviously wish to stay at the festival, and I wish for us to have some time alone before we are wed. I desire our union to be as soon as possible" he whispered saucily in my ear, and although I knew he was attempting to be flirtatious, I felt nothing for him but the apathy I normally have in his presence.

As we rode the rest of the way in silence, my thoughts turned back to the disfigured bell-ringer. I wonder what happened while we were gone from the square? As soon as we turned the corner, however, I realized the people had gone from joyous to murderous in a matter of minutes.

Apparently everyone had assumed Quasimodo was wearing a mask, and when they discovered their false assumptions when Esmerelda could not pull off the mask that was his true face, they became violent. Typical ignorance.

The crowds were in a frenzy, people screaming from fear and disgust as Quasimodo was dumped, unceremoniously, onto the Place de Grève and tied down on the horizontal spinning wheel without trial or logic. Amongst the screams and jeers, I hear his soft voice calling for help from his master, Claude Frollo. When I looked for the cold Archdeacon, my heart sank from the malicious gleam in his eyes and he turned away from his ward and rather turned to face me, or rather, my Fiancé.

"No one is to help him, he deserves his punishment. Twenty lashes, I think, will teach him a valuable lesson" he declared in a silky voice to the Captain, and I shivered from the words and the disgusting tone of voice. He sounded as if he enjoyed this torment, the torment of this poor soul that he has promised to protect when he took him as his ward.

The way the gossip sounds, he had always shielded Quasimodo from the world, but it is not a crime to be curious. How could he be so heartless? No one can be content to sit alone in a tower forever. I should know.

I have been alone forever too.

I glanced towards the wheel where it was spinning Quasimodo as the soldier followed his orders of striking twenty lashes on the "creature." How can we live in a society like this? How can men like Claude Frollo be the peak of moral integrity? Men like Frollo live to humiliate and punish the people whilst they live in lavish comfort? Men of God, ha, more like men of the Devil.

As if he could read my mind, the Archdeacon's eyes dropped to mine and he smirked slightly, just enough for my blood to burn in my veins and my hands to clench around the reigns. No matter Quasimodo's ugliness, he is a human being. A human being who is scared and helpless, being tied down and humiliated by the masses for the crime of ugliness and difference!

Just as I was about to scream at Frollo in indignation, Phoebus placed a hand over my mouth and led me to the back of the tent to speak privately.

"It is cruel, Adeline, I know. But you must see sense, aggravating Frollo will only end in disaster and won't change anything for that-that creature" Phoebus said in an understanding and straightforward voice, as usual, only stating the facts as they were in his mind. I grew angered at the blasé disregard for Quasimodo's humanity. He is not a creature, no matter what we had all believed; he is a human man who bleeds, as we saw from the public punishment.

"How dare you tell me what I can and cannot say, furth-" I was cut off by a gloved hand being placed firmly over my mouth and a harsh voice whispering in my ear roughly.

"Yes, I dare. I am to be your husband, and I will not tolerate this blatant disregard for public authority-warranted or not. The Hunchback is the Archdeacon's to discipline as he sees fit, and you should not place your opinions in situations where they are not asked or valued!" He demanded in a low voice, his hot breath fanning my ear as I glared into the back of Achilles mane, resenting my status in life and the fact I would soon be subservient to the Captain.

"I do wish to marry you Adeline, for you are quite beautiful, and your family is one of honor and with no small means of land and wealth, but you must learn to control yourself" he admonished lightly, but that did little to settle the rage burning through my veins like a wildfire.

He wishes to marry me for my beauty? Beauty will fade, and when it is gone one must love the soul, the brain, the heart! And "control yourself" is simply a euphemism for "obey me." And I do not wish to live this life as a slave to another, I just want to be free!

As the sounds of screams and cries grew more frenzied, Phoebus helped me down off of Achilles and ordered me to "stay put and behave." I watched him ride off with a glare on my face and my lips pursed in a firm line.

Insufferable man, I will never behave.

**************************************

As soon as he was out of sight, I snuck around the tent to watch the proceedings with growing horror and disgust. No longer was my disgust pointed toward the Hu-Quasimodo. No, but the Parisians I had grown up knowing. The kind baker's face was distorted with a scowl as he called for floggings, the fair-minded priest demanded justice in the name of God, and even the gentle cobbler yelled for the "creature's death."

Quasimodo was being whipped mercilessly at the behest of the crowd below, and he endured his pain in silence resignation; seeming to accept the fact this behavior was normal, expected even, towards a person like him. I raised my hand to clench over my heart as it ached for him.

So often I complained of my plight of submission, but this was true slavery. Slavery to a society that deems his ugliness as a foul mark against his soul. As I watched the blood begin to pour from his back in streams, I was struck by the image of Jesus Christ, crucified to an oak tree for being different. For scaring the masses who did not understand his miracles or his teachings.

My eyes began to swim with tears I had not shed since I was a babe, and I knew the time for action was now.

As I pondered what I could possibly do to end this torture, I realized I have no power. As the daughter of a noble, I could attempt to persuade Frollo to have mercy, but I knew deep in my heart he would never be swayed by my pleas. As a woman, I have no power among the people, and I can not even gain their attention! Just as I was about to cry out in frustration, my eyes landed upon the tent where the gypsies adorned their costumes. Gypsies... Wait! My mother's scoldings and belittlements came to the forefront of my mind and I smirked at the irony for a moment before remembering the reason for my mission.

I ran to the tent, all the while taking the numerous pins and ties from my hair until it flowed freely down my back in dark red waves. As I unpinned my cap I viewed the various stage-paints, and although I had never worn cosmetics, I decided it would lend itself to the image. I quickly divested myself of my fine dress and kirtle, storing them in a leather sack as I quickly searched through the costumes. The suitable options were limited- some of these garments covered less than my chemise- until I found Esmerelda's white blouse and purple skirt. I quickly donned on the outfit.

With the low-cut neckline and blue bodice laced up, my full figure is easily noticeable and I blushed at the exhibition. The skirt is a beautiful deep purple and beading ran down the sides of the scarf wrapped around my hips. I toed off my fine boots and stored them away with my dress, remembering that gypsies preferred to go barefoot when possible. I rolled down my stockings and sighed from the feeling of freedom from the restrictions of noble clothing. I then placed gold bangles around my arms and one in my ear piercing, tying a green scarf around my hair and copying the style I had seen other gypsies wear from my time in the city.

I felt quite scandalous, with my hair flowing and my low-cut neckline off my shoulders, but the less restrictive clothing felt lovely and I quickly grew accustomed to the airy feeling between my thighs. I then put black kohl around my eyes and rubbed dried roses upon my lips and cheeks to deepen their color. When I peering into the glass, I didn't even recognize myself.

Good, because I do not want to be recognized. As I looked at myself in the glass, I contemplated what a risk I was taking. For a man I didn't know. But then I realized, if I were tied up and being beaten and humiliated, I would hope someone would help me in this manner and show me compassion in the face of despair.

After that sobering thought, I grabbed the leather satchel and donned on a black cloak to hide my true identify from prying gypsies eyes as I passed through the gypsy tents frantically. I ran quickly until I reached the edge of the tent, just a few feet away from the Place de Grève. I took a deep breathe, and squared my shoulders. I must take a chance....

I wonder why I care so much for this poor man? I suppose it is normal human pity.

I grasped my courage about me and ran onto the stage with a knife I had taken from one of the dressing tables. I glanced at the crowd and screamed for them to take pity on Quasimodo, for he had done no harm. The words came out of my mouth is such a loud frenzy, I can barely remember the exact delivery. When Claude Frollo demanded I leave the stage at once, I immediately began cutting the ropes lose. I continued to pry away the ropes as rotten produce and other unmentionables flew around Quasimodo and I, as the cries and yells of Parisians had restarted with a vengeance.

People adore having another to cast their woes upon. Poor Quasimodo.

I heard Claude Frollo shout, and I turned towards him with a mad gleam in my eye and screamed "justice!" As I screamed my demand, I threw the dagger at the spot on his throne just above his head. As nobility, I had taken hunting and shooting lessons, so my aim was quite good. He stared at me with anger, and a gleam of insidious intent.

I shivered but stood my ground, realizing he must see me as Esmerelda and, therefore, his carnal lust and anger is now pointed towards me. Flay me now.

I observed Claude Frollo pointing from Phoebus to me in an angered way, and I knew I had to make a hasty escape. I pulled up Quasimodo from his kneeling position and placed my cloak about his figure. Without speaking, he gestured to the steps of the Notre Dame, and I quickly followed his train of thought. Sanctuary. We can claim sanctuary.

I took hold of his hand and never once saw his shocked expression as we ran, as best as we could with our injuries, to the safety of the stone Cathedral. We were off the stage and running before anyone knew what was going on, as I had stolen some exploding powder from the gypsies "magic" stock.

As soon as we closed the door, I sank back against it with a sign of relief and I took in the magnificence of Notre Dame. I could live my entire life only a mile away from the beauty and never grow tired or accustomed to it.

The candles reflected against the walls of tapestries, crucifixes, and relics of saints through the ages, gazing down upon the wretched souls who look to them for comfort and salvation. The rose window shown down, creating a spectrum of bright colors on the floor and withdrawing a sense of peace from a place deep within my soul. We are safe.

We. Oh, Quasimodo!

 

************************

I turned to see the rescued man, but he was gone from sight. I huffed in annoyance and search the back of the Cathedral for the stairway. All the people say this man rings the bells, so he must live in in the near vicinity. I began to climb, and climb, and climb the spiral staircase that led to the North and South towers. Soon I was far above the saints carved into the archways below, and I was standing on the rooftop bridge between the two towers, gazing into the beautiful sunset and taking a deep breathe. I am alive. I am safe for the moment.

But where is Quasimodo? One would assume he would be grateful to his savior, but I suppose a lifetime of seclusion was not conducive to effective communication habits.

As I walked among the gargoyles and pillars, I was struck again by the sheer beauty of the Cathedral. I can imagine a joyous life living within these walls but it must be an option, a choice.

And one aspect that had become clear was that Quasimodo is a prisoner to Notre Dame. The world as a whole rejects him, and his "master" emotionally abuses and manipulates him.

I doubt he has ever had a true friend. Well, I have not had many friends either, but the life of the nobility is not for creating "relationships." It is for creating contracts that mutually benefit each family finically or power-wise, nothing more. But I am not scorned daily, denied my humanity... Oh God, to be forsaken by the world as You were, as he is.

_From childhood's hour I have not been_

_As others were—I have not seen_

_As others saw—I could not bring_

_My passions from a common spring—_

I wrapped myself bodily around the stone pillar, deep in thought, as I stared over the bustling streets of Paris. Oh, how wondrous would it be to ignore what had befallen me this morning!

Suddenly, I heard a soft tenor voice from an unknown place ask, "who are you? Why have you come here?" Far from being startled, I pondered the questions for a moment, until I decided to ask some of my own.

"Who are you? Why have you come here" I asked quietly, almost missing the deprecating chuckle Quasimodo emitted at my queries.

"You know what I am" the deformed man responded, the timorous voice closer to me than before, and I took a deep breathe and plunged ahead.

"You are not a 'what' you are a 'who,' and I would like you to introduce yourself properly" I said firmly, longing to leave the past gossip behind me and begin anew learning about the bell-ringer. He was silent for a long time, and I sighed and turned to leave, but suddenly I felt a shy hand touch my elbow and then disappear just as suddenly.

_From the same source I have not taken_

_My sorrow—I could not awaken_

_My heart to joy at the same tone—_

_And all I lov'd—I lov'd alone—_

"I-I am sorry. I've never... I am Quasimodo. But you know that" I watched as he grimaced from behind the hood of the cloak I had given him, which was now being used to hide his face from my view. When he saw my face attempting to search his own, he quickly turned away in embarrassment and shame. I knew he had never met anyone before, but I am not exactly frightening, and I walked forward slowly to meet his eyes and show him I meant no harm.

"I do know who you are, but it is a pleasure to meet you anyways" I said resolutely, leaving no room for argument that it was a pleasure to really meet Quasimodo. He glanced up at me shyly from under the cloak, and I granted him with a small smile, hoping to ease his ire, "my name is Adeline" I said softly, but my name sparked recognition and he turned to face me fully with a questioning gaze in his blue eyes.

"Adeline, daughter of Lord Lapierre!" He practically squeaked in shock, with a twinge of fear, in his voice, "I thought you were the gypsy woman, Esmerelda! I suppose it does not make sense that she would help me, since she helped orchestrate my....Well, my shame" He began to pace back and forth in front of me as I stared at him, bemused. Did my father upset him in some way? That is impossible, he has never before met anyone outside of Frollo and I.

"No, I am Lady Adeline, daughter of Lord Henry Lapierre, general of the Hundred Years War. Why?" I asked, still confused from his aggravated pacing. His pacing had caused his cloak to fall off of his head, but he seemed to preoccupied with his thoughts to notice. His eyes were red from tears and his hair was dripping from the soiled fruits the people had been lunging at him during his punishment.

His punishment for being who he is.

I could just make out the top of a lash mark on his back when I made a decision. His wounds needed to be tended to, and somehow I doubt Claude Frollo will be especially understanding.

"Come, you can continue your pondering whilst I tend to your wounds," I said in a no-nonsense voice, attempting to assuage the nausea I felt from the sight of all the blood. Someone must care for him, and that someone must be me. I pulled a stuttering Quasimodo by the arm towards the tower we were nearest to, hoping it was his dwelling place.

"My master speaks of your father often, says he was a great warrior of the Hundred Years War" Quasimodo said quietly as we walked, and I nodded my agreement. My father is a great warrior, just not a great father. He treated us children the way he treated his troops, with little kindness and harsh reality. No childish follies, but rather discipline. No hugs, but whippings. No where noticeable of course.

Else it ruin my skin for my husband.

I searched around the drafty tower for a moment when we arrived and asked Quasimodo to lead the way. After a moment of protests, he simply resigned himself to my persistence and led me towards his loft. He gestured for me to enter, and I stared in wonder at the marvelous room surrounding me.

It contained colors or every kind from the colored glass hanging's reflecting the sun's rays. A small chimney rested in the corner with a fire pit below that looked as if it would be quite forgiving during the harsh winter months. Next to that was a small table and two chairs, and I scowled when I realized the only company that resided in the second chair was the devil incarnate, Quasimodo's warden.

The loft led immediately outside to a small balcony that looked out over Paris. With the sun streaming in and reflecting off of the bells, the room glowed with warmth and peaceful solitude, an I sighed from the comfort of it all. As I was inspecting the numerous pieces of furniture and artwork, I noticed an area of the place that was covered by drapes. I assumed since Quasimodo had not stopped my curious investigation yet, I could look inside. All that was behind the green drapes as a large bed, a chair, a dresser and a small fireplace.

I blushed at the knowledge I was staring at a man's bed- with the man in the room- when I spotted one of my favorite paperbacks resting on the dresser beside the bed. I practically squealed when I saw it, and Quasimodo hurried over at the sound, afraid something was amiss.

Besides the fact we were both covered in muck and hiding from the citizen's at large.

"Oh, I adore Le Morte d'Arthur, I have always been so fascinated by the Knights of the Round table and the story of Arthur and Guinevere! This book just came out this year, however did you get it? This was my birthday present from father and it was quite expensive" I rambled on for a moment before I blushed deeply and stared at the book in my hands, willing myself to calm down. I just had never met anyone with similar tastes for books, and even if they did, rarely did anyone have the resources to buy copies.

Quasimodo was twisting his hands in a nervous manner when he answered, "mine was also a gift, from my master" he told me quietly, still avoiding my gaze and I frowned when I realized he had put the cloak back up to hide his face, "I have many books, if you would like to see them" he finished, still ringing his hands until I began to bounce on my toes in a manner that would surely cause me to be punished at home, and I nodded yes excitedly.

Quasimodo's frown turned into an absentminded smile as he looked at me underneath his eyelashes, until he realized what he was doing and frowned again, coughing awkwardly and leading me towards his bookshelves saying, "this way then, M'lady." I frowned at the title, I hate when people use it as if to distinguish me higher than them. Honestly, there is no need! My father is the Lord, not I.

"Please don't call me that, I am no Lady, as you can tell from my heathen actions and dress" I pointed out, cringing when I realized how much of my body was on display. Quasimodo glanced towards me too, taking note of my ample breasts pushed up by the bodice and loose skirt leading down to bare feet, before glancing away quickly and blushing brightly.

I smiled at his reaction, not at all angered by his stares, even if I am a bit embarrassed myself by my revealing dress. After all, I must be the first woman he has ever seen up close... How sad. As I looked through his bookshelves, he gathered a bin of rain water collected from the balcony and healing herbs and oils. I was distracted until I heard him pull back the drapes to his small bedroom and disappear inside. Well, that will not do. He can't treat his wounds on his own.

I quickly walked to the drapes and pulled them back, only to see once again the figure of Quasimodo. Although, this time, I had a much different reaction.

He was shirtless, and he is muscular to a fault. His arms and torso rippled when he moved from the exertion and years of physical exercise whilst ringing the bells. His hunch looked smooth, and his skin from the front unmarked and darker than most in Paris had. He must receive more sun than I had realized. He simply stood there, clutching his face to hide it and awaiting the fear and mockery he must normally face for his disfigurement. I swallowed my observations to think upon another time as I walked forward and gently peeled his hands away from his face.

It is not pretty, I will not lie. The bulging bone over his left eye created a lopsided appearance to his face, and his nose was still very large and compressed, but beyond that his skin was healthy. His blue eyes are very expressive and large, and his wavy brown hair falls to cover his low forehead and parts of his eyelids, and I longed to brush it out of his pretty eyes... Wait, did I just call his eyes pretty!? Never mind. Quasimodo is not disgusting, not in the least. He has a nice facial structure around his chin and cheekbones, cheekbones that were now suffused with color.

I blushed anew from my staring but never wavered, or showed any sign of fear or disgust, just disinterested observations. Quasimodo slowly relaxed into my touch and stared into my eyes with a look of fierce desperation and hope, not unlike the expression he had worn when being celebrated at the festival before the ensuing madness.

The taciturn man I had met just moments before was expressing such openness, such candor, that I almost began to tear up from the pleading look. I hurriedly turned away and l cleared my throat, lest I humiliate myself through an outpouring of unwanted emotions, and asked him to remove his trousers and situate himself in the metal basin.

He spluttered indignantly for a moment until I spun around with a determined glint in my eyes.

"Listen, I need to heal you, and the sooner the better. The guards will be searching for me, or rather Esmerelda, and we need to formulate of some kind of plan. I promise on the Holy Bible and our Lord that no harm will come to you from my hands, but please do as I say!" I finished, aggravated at his stubborn refusal to listen. He is hurt. He must be aching from the pain and I don't want to wait until infection settles in.

I turned around and I heard him unfastening his trousers. I blushed at the thought, I had never before seen a man undressed, but I pushed those thoughts away. I need to help him, to heal him.

When he coughed pointedly I turned back around, ignoring his embarrassed gaze from the basin and going immediately for the oils and bath salts sitting on the dresser. When I turned back around, Quasimodo was still avoiding my gaze, and I almost smiled at the sheer impossibility of it all.

Here I was, about to heal the Hunchback of Notre Dame while dressed as a gypsy. At that thought, I took the thick green scarf from my head to use as cloth to clean his wounds. I walked immediately to the back of the basin in order to assess the damage. What I saw made me want to cry, and scream, and curse the world.

His brutal lashings criss-crossed all around his back, with pieces of muck and spoiled food dried over the still bleeding wounds. But the sight that struck me was that these new lashings were simply painted over previously healed marks of violence. Quasimodo's back looked as if it had been flayed open for years, and the ridges of raised flesh over Quasimodo's hump caused my heart to beat out of rhythm.

Claude Frollo obviously whipped Quasimodo frequently to cause such angry, red scars; reflecting the scars left upon his heart, I would imagine, from a life of loveless solitude. There seemed to be hundreds of ghastly, tortuous marks across the pale flesh from his neck where the basin hid them from my eyes.

Hot tears welled in my eyes and I let out a slight whimper. Quasimodo curled over, attempting to hide his nakedness and humiliation from my eyes, but I quickly put a warm hand on his right shoulder in reassurance, saying, "the wounds are worse than I had expected, that is all. Let's begin." I dipped the towel in the lukewarm rain water and began to slowly wipe away the dried remains from the incident.

As I continued to gently wash his back, I noticed his shoulders were shaking slightly. I slowly crept forward on my knees to see what was wrong. I caught sight of silent tears streaming down his cheeks as he furiously wiped them away, attempting to hide them from my gaze. My heart ached for him: was he crying from his sorrow and pain, or from being touched with kindness? Either way I immediately went back to washing and tending to his wounds, not wishing to emasculate him further, and neither of us spoke.

_Then—in my childhood—in the dawn_

_Of a most stormy life—was drawn_

_From ev'ry depth of good and ill_

_The mystery which binds me still—_

In the tense silence, I thought about the awful horrors humanity had placed on this poor man. Making him into this subservient creature, taking away his sense of pride. This is a man, a human man with a beating heart and air in his lungs! Can they not see they are no better than the Jews were to Jesus, condemning their own Lord to die.

I fervently hope that one day Quasimodo shows those ignorant people his value and strength, because there is more to him than meets the eye. He has a quiet intelligence that only someone with similar intelligence can see and understand, someone like me. He has never been permitted to speak his mind, or live his life as he chooses.

And when I think about it, neither have I. We have both been forced into this world without friends, without hope of proving our value. Although Quasimodo has suffered a fate no other human can ever understand, I understand more than I would like to admit to myself.

Am I truly finding kinship with Quasimodo?

When I had finished washing away the soap and dried blood, I handed him a towel without looking at him.

"Quasimodo, please put on trousers and lay face down on the bed so I can apply the herbs and oils," I said in a brisk tone as I walked to the outside the drapes to await his instructions to return. I heard his shy voice call to enter, and I gave a rue smile.

Had no one ever cared for him when he was ill, or hurting? Or am I truly the first? I know the answer, but the sheer idea of this man left alone and forgotten as a child makes my blood burn with rage at the world and most of all, Claude Frollo. That-that monster! I pulled back the drapes again and laid eyes on the bare back of Quasimodo. His hump was truly tall, but not particularly wide, and his back looked almost normal.

Almost.

_From the thunder, and the storm—_

_And the cloud that took the form_

_(When the rest of Heaven was blue)_

_Of a demon in my view—_

It is strong, with muscles under creamy skin. Although that once perfect skin is now marred by lashes. Before I could become enraged again, I quickly moved over to reach the oil. I uncorked the vial and held it over the fire for a moment to warm it before placing some on my hand and massaging Quasimodo's back and lashings lightly, not wanting to reopen any of the wounds. His skin feels so soft, but his body is strong, that much is obvious.

I wonder if he enjoys ringing the bells? I mean, it must be exciting to jump from rafter to rafter, hanging from the ropes and swinging up and down and to and fro. Almost playful.

When I began to place the herbs on the wounds Quasimodo tensed from the slight burning, and I attempted to sooth him with a quiet "shhh, it's alright" every now and then until his wounds were wrapped and settled. I then grabbed his arm to indicate he should sit up but he jerked from my touch. I quelled down my hurt- after all, hadn't I just healed him?- and gestured again for him to sit up so we could speak face to face. He sighed and sat up, propping his back against his pillows with a wince, and avoided my gaze shyly.

So we are back to this are we?

"Why?" he queried so softly, I barely heard. That question is so simple, and yet at the same time so vague. Is he asking why I would help him, or why I am there at all? Or perhaps why I saved him? He avoided my gaze as he elaborated his question, causing my heart to sink.

"Why did you help a- a monster like me?" He asked bitterly, and I longed to reach out and comfort this hurting man but I had no idea how. How ironic he viewed himself as a monster when the monster is clearly his master.

I thought for a long time. Do I tell him it was due to basic human pity? Because I was, and still am, curious about him? Because I genuinely care? All of these facts are true, but what would help him the most, I wondered. I looked at his face and said, knowing he would see me looking, "because no one should be treated the way those people treated you. And I understand part of what it is like to be a slave to another person but long for normality and freedom" I said softly, willing him to understand that I do genuinely care. His eyes were pained while they searched mine, and when he found no malice there his eyes widened in shock and wonderment.

"No one knows what this is like" he said at last in a cold voice, but he was still meeting my eyes so I assumed that was a positive sign despite his defensiveness.

"No... no I suppose no one can. But no one can understand anyone's sufferings. And everyone does suffer" I told him, attempting to keep my tone light and nonchalant. He scoffed at my comment and I saw his face grow red with anger.

"I am sure as the daughter of Lord, your life is like mine," Quasimodo sneered at me, causing me to flinch back from the anger in his voice. I had never heard such a dangerous tone from him before, but it reminded me that his strength and lack of emotional stability could make him an enemy to be reckoned with.

I took one last look at his hardened upper body and angered expression turning his face even more disfigured. I wish we... Well. It is too late for that. I healed his wounds, and I will pray for him. I have done my duty as a child of God.

"That is not what I mean! It is simply... Never-mind" I finished sadly, turning away and walking out of the small bedroom to gather my belongs and go... Where? If I change and sneak out of one of the side entrances, I can tell my parents I was struck with the sudden need to pray whilst watching the torturing. Perhaps then I won't be punished as severely.

I walked down the spindling staircases solemnly, firelight dancing across the walls and creating shadows of memories of a life lived within these walls. Such isolation from something so beautiful.

_And all I lov'd—I lov'd alone—_

 

**************************

I walked slowly towards an alcove where people come to light candles and speak to God in prayer alone before the sacristy. I have so much to pray for, and as normal, I began to sing.

Somehow I am closer to Christ when I am singing: "dear God, I don't know if you can hear me... Or if you're even there. I don't know if you will listen, to this poor girl's prayer. Yes I know I'm just an outcast. I shouldn't speak to you" I sang softly, entranced by the candles and tapestries of Christ, "still I see your face and wonder, if you were an outcast too," like Quasimodo and I.

I continued on, my voice becoming choked when I overheard the prayers of the wealthy in various other parts of the desolate Cathedral, their wishes are all so self-serving and vain. Do they not see true suffering? Do they not care?

I peered at the holy virgin, and pleaded, "I ask for nothing, I can get by. But I know so many less lucky than I," Quasimodo, "please help these people, the poor and down-trod, I thought we all were the children of God?" I do not know when I began to cry, nor do I know what exactly set off the tears. I've rarely cried since I was a little girl, but somehow the sheer loneliness and despair that surrounded me seemed to close in with little hope in sight. How could those people have tortured Quasimodo? Would they had done that too me if I were unknown to them?

How could I have stayed away, sheltered from the world and true suffering? Quasimodo is right, I know nothing of real loneliness or slavery... But why does it feel so real to me? Yes we come from different worlds entirely, but was I not as alone in spirit and love as Quasimodo? Yes I had people around me, but they all attempted to fix my flaws and never once valued my inner character, except for my brother. Rather the rest of my family is simply awaiting the day I become Phoebus' problem.

"I knew I would find you here" I heard a lecherous voice whisper behind me, and I froze from shock and fear. No.... I felt bead of sweat gathering on my brow from fear, but I refused to appear spineless.

I continued to genuflect without turning when I retorted in a shaky tone, "I claim Sanctuary, Archdeacon. I am safe here." I suddenly felt a large, boney hand coil itself around my throat and yank me upwards into an equally boney chest. I began to struggle immediately, but it was no use as his other hand had trapped both of mine behind my back in one swoop.

"There is no where you can hide from me, gypsy. How evil you are, flaunting your temptations at good men and turning them to sin" He whispered in a disgustingly sweet voice in my ear, and I could feel his aversion to my womanly charms thrusting against my lower-back. I resisted the urge to vomit, and gathered what I had left of my frazzled courage.

"Sanctuary; now release me, this is a house of God" I said in a faux-assertive tone, and I could feel his hands clench harder over mine in a rage.

"You dare speak to me of God, you vile drudge? I will see you jailed and hung for your crimes of disturbing the peace and almost murdering myself with your little dagger throwing trick" He hissed, and I shivered from fear. I could go to jail, I could die? Why did I have to go to the fair this morning? Did my life truly alter so much in one day?

Suddenly he yanked me away from him and threw me to the floor, leaving me gasping for air and clutching my side in fear and pain. He smiled at my vulnerability, and I glared into his eyes, still attempting to breathe: "You've chosen a marvelous prison, witch. But it is a prison none the less. When you take one step outside, you will be arrested. I have men stationed at every door. And gypsies do not do well within stone walls" he said while stalking away, cackling darkly at my predicament.

I gave a rue grin at his comment; maybe gypsies don't do well trapped, but I have been imprisoned my whole life and this will be easy. I clutched a pew to help me stand, and I gasped from the pain in my lungs and side.

I had always had problems with breathing, and the events of today and the turbulent emotions must be affecting me. I closed my eyes to calm my heart rate and breathe, and when I reopened them I saw Quasimodo hiding away in the corner of the alcove, watching me.

Wait... had he been there the whole time?

"H-how long have you been here?" I asked with a wheeze, still trying to calm my still racing heart while clutching my aching side. He just continued to watch me silently, assessing me. I allowed him to study me whilst I crawled ungracefully to sit in the pew, leaning forward with a gasp of pain. Suddenly the events of the day became real, and my mind fully comprehend my plight. I am a prisoner; I could try and change to leave, but even then some of the guards at the door are bound to notice a noble leaving at this time of night.

Why am I so stupid!? Rescuing is all well and good in fairytales, but this is real life and I am not strong enough. And now I will pay for it. How could I have hoped to change anything? I am just Adeline. Just ignorant Adeline. Just reckless-

"A-Adeline?" I heard through my quiet sobs and tears, but I didn't look up. I couldn't. How shameful that now not only am I imprisoned, but I am weak. My mother always says crying is a display of a lack of self control. I felt a tentative touch on my bare shoulder, and I jerked up. Pulling my sleeve up higher on my shoulder and looking into unsettled blue eyes.

"I-I am sorry. I did not show you proper gratitude for what you did. You've given up your freedom to help me. You healed me and did not pass judgement, and for that I am in your debt. Thank you," Quasimodo said, and when I gazed at his open expression I knew he meant it. And if he was no longer waiting for me to reject him.

I laughed at that thought; Quasimodo may be disfigured, but I am certainly no beauty. Plump is not exactly pretty, and my mother always went to great lengths to hide my body. And now my figure is on display in this clothing; and while it is freeing, it is also humiliating.

"As long as you do not judge me, I will not judge you" I said kindly, smiling slightly into his face and he took a step back from shock. I frowned, I thought we were getting along well enough in this difficult situation. "What did I say wrong?" He continued to look bemused, staring at me as if he had never before seen me.

He stared at me for a moment longer, and then glanced away, before saying, "come, we should no be in the open," and I bristled at that. No, he could not be in the open, because of who he is.

Quasimodo shook his head at me sadly as if understanding my frustrations, and nodded towards the stairs. Back up we went, and I walked first with Quasimodo following shortly behind my every movement. When we reached the loft, I was again clutching my side and my face was flushed from exertion, and Quasimodo told me to sit down while he fetched some mead from the pantry.

When I had cooled down some, I reexamined the loft I had only briefly explored. Quasimodo had beautiful wood carvings of the city of Paris, and it was wonderfully painted and decorated. He even had the townspeople. As I lifted each figurine to inspect it before careful setting it back down, I felt Quasimodo reexamining my face.

If he is looking for any sign of fear from me, he will be searching for a while. And I told him so. He flushed from being caught and looked down, but when he glanced up again I was smiling at him and tentatively, so quickly I do not even know if it was there, he smiled back.

He looks much better when he smiles.

"Why did you ask me not to judge you?" He asked, his face falling into a confused scrunch. I sighed heavily, realizing that he had been shown to me as very vulnerable, and I owe him honesty.

"Well I... I am not exactly pretty" I said with a cringe, admitting it out loud scaring me, but I soldiered on, "I know you have not seen much of the world below, but among women I am undesirable. My fiancé," I spat out with derision, "thinks me pretty because of my dowry, I suppose. No one has ever looked at me and seen any value. So I do understand, a little" I looked towards him earnestly, willing him to understand some of our similarities.

He was staring at me in absolute shock and disbelief, and I shrunk in on myself, humiliation bubbling in my stomach and suddenly feeling quite naked.

He noticed my hands attempting to cover myself and he shook his head quickly, speaking passionately.

"No! You are not ugly! You are so beautiful, one of the most beautiful people I have ever laid eyes on! I would never judge you!" He declared, and I blushed hotly under his stare, my eyes falling to the ground in embarrassment and, dare I say it, pleasure. I do not understand why, but the fact Quasimodo finds me beautiful causes my heart to pound erratically.

When Phoebus said he finds me beautiful, it revolted me, simply because my womanly charms and financial status are all he sees. He does not see me, Adeline. But Quasimodo has lived his life away from the world, and he has no ulterior motives for money or marriage.

I probably should not put value in the fact that Quasimodo finds me beautiful, since anyone would be beautiful to a novice of the world, but it does strike my heart.

I continued to stare at him, and I realized he is not ugly either. Neither of us are ugly, because are we not made in God's image? Aesthetic beauty may fade, but I am a true romantic who believes our beauty is reflected in our souls. "Thank you Quasimodo, and you are not ugly either" I said back to him in response, and his expressions suddenly closed off from me, becoming as stony as the walls that held him.

"There is no need to lie" he told me steadily, and I glared fiercely back at him. How dare he accuse me of lying about such an important matter!

"I am not a liar!" I shouted, and when he flinched back I instantly regretted it. I can't yell at him, he does not deserve it. He deserves kindness. I softened my tone considerably, and closed the distance between us to take hold of his hands. They are so large, and calloused from years of tugging ropes to rings the bells, but they fit perfectly within my own.

Scared blue eyes met mine, and I smiled, "I am not a liar, Quasimodo."

As we looked into on another's eyes, my heart fluttered as I watched the softening of his eyes and the slight twitch to his lips.

********************

The brief interlude held for a moment longer until we heard a door slam not to far away. We both turned to face the crash before looking worriedly into each others eyes.

I began to shake from leftover nerves as I realized only one person would ever come so far above the confines of the Cathedral. Why has he come here!?

"It is Claude Frollo, he must be coming to ask if you have helped me escape since I am not in the main section of the Cathedral... Remember, I am the gypsy woman Esmerelda, and you have not seen me" I whispered frantically as we both ran towards the bedroom, hiding inside while I finished relaying my instructions, "you took a bath and treated your wounds yourself, but act as if you are still in great pain since you would not have had someone to bandage your back. I will hide here until he leaves" I finished as we heard dominating footfalls coming up the stairs to he loft.

Quasimodo appeared nervous about lying to his master, twisting his hands and chewing on his lips, so I begged him, "please do this for me, Quasimodo. I will go to prison and perhaps die if I am found here," I pleaded with tears in my eyes and immediately he began nodding frantically, that of course he would protect me.

I gave a relieved sigh and tilted my head up slightly to kiss his soft cheek in thanks before sending a dazed Quasimodo through the drapes into the main room of the loft, trying not to giggle at his doltish expression but focus on the crucial task at hand.

If I am found with Quasimodo, he could be sentenced to death by Frollo. Burned at the stake or hung for harboring a fugitive.

At that sobering thought, I burrowed underneath the bed towards the drapes, preparing to listen and pray that Quasimodo can successfully lie to his master.

"Quasimodo, where are you boy?" I heard Frollo viciously yell and Quasimodo's answering, "I am here, master!" from the table sitting not far from the bedroom.

How I wish I could see his expression! Is he shaking? Is he blushing from my impromptu show of affection? His cheek feels soft... no, I will ponder that impulsive action later.

I heard rushed footfalls and then a resounding slap echoed through the room, ending with a loud thump as a body hit the floor and I cringed and clenched my hands in anger. How dare he lay one finger on Quasimodo after what happened earlier!?

"How DARE you disobey your master!" I heard Frollo scream in rage, and I knew that his frustration is most likely due to Esmerelda's, or my, mysterious disappearance from the Cathedral. Tears began to gather in my eyes again, how I wish I never would have left my bed chamber this day!

"Where is she? The witch who helped you!? Where is that worthless gypsy Esmerelda!?" He demanded, his voice too close to the bedroom for comfort. I heard Quasimodo gasp in a few breathes and rasp his answer.

"I do not know, master. I have not seen her since arriving back in my chambers for solitude and to treat my wounds" he whispered brokenly, his voice trembling with fear and my heart stopped as we awaiting Frollo's answer. Would he regard the lie as truth?

"I'm sorry master" his broken voice whispered close to my hiding spot, and I longed to reach out to Quasimodo and hold him, and have him hold me. I feel so broken, helpless.

"No apology can assuage me, you worthless wretch! I told you, the outside world is cruel to ugliness, but did you listen to your merciful master? Of course not!" He raged on, and I heard his heavy boot kick Quasimodo in the stomach, causing him to wheeze out in pain. After Quasimodo's apologizing sobs continued, Frollo continued in a softer, faux-kind voice, "listen here, Quasimodo, you are never to leave this tower again. Do you understand?" He asked harshly at the end, demanding satisfaction. No noise was uttered, but I assume Quasimodo nodded because suddenly I heard chairs scraping against the oak floor and a heavy item placed down. Food perhaps?

"I brought us a late dinner today, Quasimodo. No lessons tonight, as you have already studied the importance of punishment for sins against humanity." Frollo addressed steadily, with a cruel devil-may-care tone, mocking Quasimodo's disfigurement and whipping.

No answer came from Quasimodo, but I could imagine the devastation from the memory on his face. How I wish I could erase it entirely. I sat underneath the four-poster bed for what felt like hours, but was most likely mere minutes, when Frollo said his terse goodnight and left.

Even then, Quasimodo made himself busy by washing the dishes and tidying up for a few more minutes, and when the sound came from down below of the door slamming to the south tower, I hastily stood up and dusted off the costume before sitting on the bed to await Quasimodo.

When he entered his quaint bedroom, his eyes immediately fell to me sitting on his bed, and his cheeks suffused with color. I wonder what he was thinking about? Either way, I gathered my jumbled thoughts and waited for Quasimodo to speak.

He appeared to realize that I was waiting, and he sighed heavily before walking forward to stand in front of me to speak: "I do not think I would be safe for you to leave tonight" he said finally, staring down at the dust-mites on the floor with a twisted expression, "the guards will be patrolling the streets searching for your alter-ego, so it would be best to leave at some point tomorrow," he finished, and glanced up when I nodded, agreeing with his plan.

He looked back down before continuing, "since that is the case, I will sleep out on the loft and you may take the bed. I am sorry I do not have any better accommodations to offer you, M'lady" he finished resolutely with a hard gleam in his eye, and I realized that by addressing me by "M'lady" he was reminding himself of our vast differences in status. I shook my head at that, we are both bound to people's whims in our own way.

"Please do not address me as 'M'lady', as I have said, I am not my father's daughter" I whispered, feeling sad to relinquish my family but knowing that I can never go back. Where will I go? Away from France, from this life.

Quasimodo peered at me from underneath his wavy hair and I shook off my troubles to smile at him, "and the bed is big enough for the both of us, I would think." I finished bemusedly, and blushed brilliantly when I realized I had just offered to share my bed with a man, unmarried.

Quasimodo seemed to notice my distress for he placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, lips quirking slightly, before walking swiftly out of the bedroom and onto the loft. I took a deep breathe, thankful for the seclusion to ponder my naiveté issues, when I heard yet another crash and a muted curse.

I rushed out of the bedroom to see Quasimodo on the loft ten feet above, clutching his torso and standing below Big Marie, the largest bell in Notre Dame, and the most valuable. It was crafted in the last 1100s as a symbol of the wealth of France, and within its cracked outer appearance lay hundred of jewels and fine metals. I quickly climbed up the latter, hitching my skirt up to reach the top, and immediately raced to Quasimodo, demanding to know what was amiss.

"I" he coughed for a moment, before wheezing on, "I cannot ring Big Marie for the time. People must know it is now the beginning of Ordinary Time in the church calendar!" He said frantically, and I realized that without Quasimodo's constant ringing, people would not know the time beyond the beginning of the day is with the sun in the east.

"Alright, what should I do?" I asked resolutely, and Quasimodo gapped at me. I held my ground for a moment, but when his expression did not change I snapped at him, "it must be done, correct? You are not well, so someone must" I reasoned with him. He continued to shake his head in denial, and said in a scandalized tone, "but you cannot ring the bell! It is- it is so profoundly unladylike!" He blustered, and I shook my head in frustration.

Honestly, perhaps I am not so ladylike! Why should I be? I fumed whilst turning towards the rope tied to the bell and tentatively reaching for it. This cannot be so difficult, all I have to do is pull on it.

I yanked the rope towards me and down as hard as I could with both arms and I ignored Quasimodo's shout of "wait!" The gargantuan bell swung towards me, and I almost cheered from the success. I knew I cold do succeed in this, and it was not even that-

I was jerked forward and plummeted into the opening beneath the bell, clutching to the rope for dear life, and I fell down halfway into the separate lofts which held the different bells. I was swinging in mid air, and if I dropped the rope, I would fall at least twenty feet to the bottom of the floor leading out of the tower that Frollo had recently vacated. Through my fear, when I glanced up I was struck by the sheer beauty of the jewels and reflective glass on the inside of the magnificent bell.

My screams were rivaling that of the ringing bell, and our sounds mixed together to reign in the new liturgical year for the Parisians. Through my distress, I never noticed an arm reaching around my waist and pulling me towards them and climbing upwards until we fell onto the previous loft. I looked up to apologize, but I realized I was still sitting in the arms of Quasimodo who was gasping for breathe through the pain. When I uncurled my arms from his back, I noticed blood on my hands. His blood! His wounds reopened! God-damn my stupidity.

"Quasimodo, I am so sorry!" I exclaimed, jumping up and reaching down to pull him up as well. I helped him down the ladder and once we reached the bedroom I took off his shirt, against his half-hearted requests not to bother, and requested he lay down again on the bed. As I re-washed and re-wrapped his wounds, my face grew hot again due to my stupidity.

"You must think me a fool, for not realizing I would be pulled down once the bell swung to the opposite side" I whispered in the quite room, the fire dancing and casting shadows all around us.

"Of course not, M'lady" Quasimodo said, but I cut him off before he could continue.

"Adeline, please. You just witnessed me embarrass myself to an immeasurable degree, so I beg of you," I teased exasperatedly, "address me as Adeline."

He turned his head to face mine whilst resting on the pillow, "alright Adeline. I have just had a bit more practice, that is all... I am not sure, but I doubt you have ever had to ring bells or do anything of the sort," he said lightly, and I almost grinned in spite of myself. He is teasing me!

"No- drinking tea and attending formal events is not conducive to manual labour" I teased back as he snorted into the pillow he was resting on, and I felt a warmth overtake me in that moment.

"I am so sorry, Quasimodo, I was not thinking" I apologized once again meekly, and he sat up to look at me. We were closer than we ever had been, and I could see the fire dancing off of the curved bone over his eye. When I glanced down from my scrutiny, I saw that his eyes were widened in astonishment.

"You need never apologize to me, because you saved me from certain death today" he said, and I gasped from his nonchalant attitude, before he held up a meaty hand to continue, "they would have whipped and beaten me until I was unable to move, and even if I had made it here alive, I would have died from blood loss or infection. Without you, I would be dead..." He trailed off, and I asked why he sounded forlorn when he said he could have be dead this day.

"I wish I were dead" he said apologetically, as if apologizing for my sacrifice, since it was made for a man who did not wish for the life I had given him back.

"Do not say that! There is much to live for," I practically yelled again with conviction, springing up in anger. How can he say his life has no meaning?

If his life has no meaning, my life must have no meaning either. When I told him so, he gaped at me once again, and I smiled inwardly at my ability to shake is composure so easily.

"You have a good family, a name, and a fiancé" he spat the last with derision, and I wondered why he cared about my fiancé? Does he want to marry? Oh, well, of course he would want love. I was quick to correct him on his assumptions about my reasons to live.

"As I told you, my fiancé is in love with my dowry and the idea of a subservient wife" I monotoned as an explanation, "and my family is not loving, but rather cunning in our attempts to rise to the top of society. The only one I care for is my little brother, Pierre. My father beats us regularly," I saw Quasimodo flinch at that, and I grimaced apologetically at the reminder of his earlier abuse from the hands of his master, "to instill discipline and his dominance. My mother hates me" I said without pre-amble, for it had always been apparent to me that my mother abhors my existence. And I profoundly dislike her.

Unfortunately, I care for her more than I will ever let on, since she would not care either way to know of my feelings; and although I do not need her love, it does hurt to know she has deep affection for all my other siblings.

"And having a title means nothing to me. I am dishonored by my family's cruelty and self-serving ways, their attempts to mold me into one of them has failed" I spat as I turned around to glare into the fire, hating my family. Their escape from the festival today because the ugliness of Quasimodo made them uncomfortable. And, of course, they must have their small comforts.

When I turned around after taking a moment to compose myself, Quasimodo was staring at me with some emotion glowing in his eyes. Respect.

How odd, no one had even looked at me with respect before. It is a humbling experience.

"Perhaps..." Quasimodo trailed off, staring at me for a moment before continuing, "perhaps we are not so dissimilar after all." And I nodded at him, pleased he was able to see the connection between us as well. It made me feel safer, more secure. I am not alone. Neither is Quasimodo. I began to grin and bounce lightly on my toes -– a habit my mother used to slap me for -– in my excitement.

"So are we friends now?" I asked him happily, trying to quell down my fear of rejection. He looked shocked still for a moment before nodding in reply.

"If... if that is what you want?" He said with a question in the end, and I laughed at his reluctance and nodded, still grinning like a lunatic.

"It has been so long since I have had a friend" I mused to myself. The last friend I had was Jennifer Demontes, but her family fell out of favor when we were nine and I was forbidden from ever seeing her again. The last I heard her family had been taken as prisoners of war to England. I still become sad when I think of her, and I pray that she can one day become free and happy. I shook off my melancholy thoughts and began grinning again, as Quasimodo sat back from my shark-like expression.

"Can I call you Quasi?" I asked suddenly, and he spluttered from the shock of it all. I suppose I could be a bit intimidating. Right, stop scaring your new friend.

"Ugh, yes. alright. Yes," he said quickly, and I giggled at his nervous agreements. He looked down at the comforter and I took pity on him and stopped laughing with some effort.

"Wonderful! You can call me Adeline, or if you like, Adie" I said happily, walking over to sit across from him on the bed. I actually enjoy that nickname, just not when people whom I dislike take liberties and use it without gaining my permission.

I am speaking of Phoebus, of course. Le âne!

"A-Alright" Quasi said nervously, and I smiled warmly across at him; I have a feeling Quasi and I are going to be good friends, but there is still the problem of Claude Frollo.

When my expression became dark, Quasimodo carefully grabbed my hand, as if sensing the hatred I was exuding for his master. I grinned at his comforting gesture and he blushed and dropped my hand quickly, only for me to pick his hand back up and squeeze it in reassurance.

"So, can you show me the rest of the bells?" I asked him exuberantly. I had always been interested in the history and sound of the bells, and what better time to study them then to see them up close: "my brother John studied them at University and he said they are all dedicated to a specific saint. Is that true?"

Quasimodo sat up against, wincing from the pain on his back and side, and began to regal me with the stories of the bells, "I will show you them all tomorrow in the daytime, but we both need a good nights rest" he said pointedly, and I blushed at the reminder that we had experienced a trying day physically and emotionally, "but I can tell you all I know of them. Little Marie came to us as a gift from Spain in the 1300s, and is an exact replica of Big Marie except it sounds a C instead of an F" he told me, his voice taking on a slight lecturing lilt to it and I was happy to be able to take his thoughts off of the terrible day, "Gabriel, the bronze bell, is in honor of the Angel who announced the good news of the Annunciation: Mary conceiving Jesus. Anne is beautiful, she sounds the note E and is named after the patron saint of Paris, Mary's mother."

His eyes took on a dazed look as he explained the bell's history to me, and I found myself grinning from his enthusiastic gesticulations: "Marcel is named in honor of the ninth bishop of Paris, and sounds a D. Jean-Marie is in memory of a past Cardinal who made many progressive architectural changes to Notre Dame to ensure the structure would be sound, and sounds an A when struck. Étienne, who sounds a slightly flat B, is named in honor of Saint Steven, the very first Christian martyr. Each bell's resonance and note is based on its size, width, and metal. The highest notes are created from the small bells with thin metal walls, and the larger they become the deeper the notes." He told me as I listened closely, memorizing the names and sounds and histories of the infamous bells, until Quasimodo cut off with a wheeze and I sprang up to retrieve a glass of wine for us both.

He accepted it cautiously, as if still surprised he would be worthy of my interest. After a few minutes of silence, I looked away from the dancing fire I had been gazing into to find Quasimodo, asleep and snoring softly. I shook my head with a small smile as my maternal instincts took over and I reached to pluck the cup from his hand. I then gently settled him down into a horizontal position, covering his body with a the comforter.

As I sat next to the sleeping man, I was struck by how calm and young he appeared to be in his sleep; he is not much older than me, only by about seven years.

I leapt up in chagrin when I realized I had been absentmindedly tracing his features with my hand. I went over to the looking glass in the corner to peer at my gypsy-esque facade. The mirror is so compact and dusty it seems to be rarely used, which is sadly not surprising. I suppose if someone told you how ugly you were everyday that you would not pine away at your reflection.

I took a damp washcloth and washed away Esmerelda's cosmetics until I could see my regular face once again. I glanced over at Quasimodo, and once again seeing him still in a deep sleep, began undressing my layers. First I unlaced the blue corset and laid it neatly by the fire, followed by the shirt and white blouse. Once I was just in my chemise, I glanced once again in the mirror to see the beauty Quasimodo and Phoebus saw in me.

My chemise is white with mid-length sleeves, falling to my mid-calves with splits up both sides to my thigh. The top opened as widely off of my shoulders as Esmerelda's blouse did, leaving my collarbone and much of my bust exposed. With so much of my body on display, I could see the warmth of my body and how soft it must seem. With my breasts unrestricted, I felt free and comfortable at last.

I glanced around the room, not wishing to invade Quasi's privacy but longing to find some sort of garment to cover my indecent dress. I discovered a soft looking red cloak hanging on a hook in the corner of the small room and covered myself with it, grateful for the protective fabric.

I nestled down in the comfortable armchair by the fire and spread the throw from the back of the chair over myself and listened to my new friend's breathing, the comforting sound lulling me into a restless sleep.

 

*****************************

"Adeline! Adeline wake up!" I distantly heard my mother calling me from my dreamworld. Funny, her voice sounded lower and... kinder than usual. How odd! I turned over, desperate to gather a few more moments of restfulness, when suddenly I was jerked awake by a large, calloused hand encircling my arm and pulling me out of my bed gently, but firmly.

Wait, what is going on? I opened my bleary eyes to gaze around the room in a bemused manner. These are not my bedchambers? Where are my book shelves, and my rocking chair in the corner? Where are my blue walls and the view out my window of Notre Dame?

Notre Dame... wait. Had yesterday truly happened? It was not a dream?

I was once again jerked from my musings when I came face to face with an agitated and flustered Quasimodo.

Oh. Oh God! Yesterday in the square, and in the South Tower, and Claude Frollo! My breathing became erratic as I processed the events of the past day, and I felt the man-Quasimodo-sit me down on the bed and, after a brief moment, put his right arm around my shoulder in comfort. That final gesture and the weight around my shoulder, confirming these events to be real, caused me to burst into uncontrollable tears.

As the tears coursed unceasingly down my face, I began hyperventilating. As I was in a wretched state, and worsening, Quasimodo sighed and tentatively placed both of his arms around me, holding me closely to his chest as I clutched his shirt and sobbed into it, attempting to regain my composure and utterly failing.

I had always had mad fantasies about fairytales and the like. But to discover I had, in one action, ruined my life and exiled myself from my family and the city of Paris in one day left me feeling empty and utterly alone.

"I-I have n-no one" I hiccuped through my sobs, and Quasimodo seemed to be in a state himself, attempting to sooth a crying woman when he had never met one before yesterday. I heard his attempts to calm me as the same words I had used to calm him down when treating his back yesterday. He whispered soothing words, and I felt myself calm under the sweet tone of his tenor voice.

"Shh, yes you do. You have your family and your -" he cut off then, seeming to tense in anger, his jaw clenching where it rested on top of my head, and I glanced up to see what would have made him so agitated so suddenly, "your fiancé" he finished in an almost growl, and I shook my head in denial.

"Not after this excursion, they will disown me for running away and calling the family's honor into question. Not that it matters," I said forlornly, sitting up with a sadden sigh and wiping at my red-rimmed eyes, "they don't appreciate me anyways. I was always alone. It just took me this long to see it" I finished with a resolute sigh, excepting my fate. I pushed my wild curls from my face and attempted to sooth them with my hands.

I gazed at the wall, still talking to myself, "I wonder where I will go? I have always longed to explore the world... Perhaps I will travel to the German states, or Spain" I mused to myself, not seeing the look of pure anguish in the eyes of the man next to me, "or maybe just the northern part of France, out in the countryside. I can try and become a farmer's wife and work. I would not mind hard work, I do not think" I finished, accepting my fate for what it is.

I saw the guilty look on Quasimodo's face when I look over to him and felt a sharp pang in my chest, I never desire for him to believe I regret my actions yesterday.

"I do not regret it, you know" I told him nonchalantly, gazing into his eyes shyly, "not for a moment. I would do it all again, you are worth more than you believe Quasimodo" I whispered soothingly, and I felt a great weight life off of my heart when his shoulders lost the tension they had held.

He gazed into my green eyes for a moment, before laughing slightly, "you are far too kind... Adie" he said softly, and I smiled at the endearing nickname. Quasi and Adie, we are only those people for one another.

Quasi's mouth hardened then and I straightened up, realizing he had woken me for a reason: "Frollo came to visit me this morn, down in the main loft below" he said when I tensed with worry that I had been found, "he told me that Phoebus is searching high and low for Adeline, and that if I see either you or Esmerelda in my sights that I am to report it to him or the guards immediately. You are reported missing, and Esmerelda is still a wanted criminal."

I laughed without humor, "is it awful of me to have wished they could catch the real Esmerelda? I do not wish her death, but her treatment of you makes her twice as cruel as amy of the men there yesterday" I growled out in anger, recalling her blatant disregard to Quasimodo's wishes, disrobing him while laughing heartily. Without her folly, we never would have been placed in this ridiculous mess!

Quasimodo continued on, in a serious voice, and I quieted to listen, "he said if I see Esmerelda, I am to deliver a message on his behalf" he choked out disgustedly, and my eyes widened. I had never seen Quasi speak of Claude Frollo in any manner less than worshipful, "he said that if you submit to him, and allow him to turn you to God, he will drop all charges and all will be forgiven" he finished lowly, his normally docile voice shaking with anger, and I leant back in slight fear.

What does that mean? Go to Frollo and accept Christ? I can do that, I already accept Christ.... So why is Quasi so angry?

"What is wrong Quasi?" I asked quietly, not wanted to turn his anger to me, "if I go to him and accept-" I was cut off when Quasimodo jumped off of the bed and turned to face me, towering over me in anger as I shrunk back in surprise.

"You will not got to him and offer yourself like some virginal sacrifice!" He finished hotly, glaring at me, but I simply stared back in befuddled silence. Virginal sacrifice? What does Quasi mean? When I asked again, in a timid voice, he sat down next to me once again, and looked into my eyes solemnly and with a bit of exasperation.

"He means to take you to bed," Quasi said softly, and it took me a moment to register his words. Take me to bed? But that would mean...

"WHAT!?" I yelled, springing up in indignation and disgust, "he is a member of the clergy!? He took a vow of chastity, no?" I raged on, beginning to pace furiously back and forth as Quasi watched me, worriedly.

"Many of the elder members of the clergy view themselves as above such vows," Quasimodo said as if explaining a fact of life to a small child, and I felt foolish for believing a man such a Frollo would have even one virtue. I suppose it is not a surprise after viewing the lust in his eyes yesterday at the festival, but entertaining thoughts is far different than acting upon them.

"Well, it matters not!" I said tiredly, running my hand through my loose hair in agitation, "I am engaged" I rationalized desperately, noticing Quasimodo's wince at the reminder, but decided to focus on that later, "and, beyond that, I am far too young! I am only nineteen and he is at least fifty!" I raged on, as if willing myself or Quasi to believe there would be some aspect of this that would drastically alter the facts. Claude Frollo had been working with my father since before I was born, I had know him since I was a tyke, and hated him for just as long.

"He has taken younger lovers" Quasimodo told me in a blasé tone. When I looked to him, his hands were still clenched, "so since you have a fiancé who is the Captain of the King's men, would he be outside the palace? Perhaps if you dress in your appropriate clothing from yesterday" he said, pointedly looking away as if reminded of my indecency, while I blushed, "you can leave with him and forget this nightmare." Quasimodo finished saying sadly, and I shook my head at his description of the past day.

"It has not been wonderful," Quasi scoffed at that and I smiled, "but I made a friend. So it was worth it," I said with a cheerful grin, and he smiled back just as brightly, if somewhat oddly. He was obviously unused to expressing happy sentiments.

shaking that dire thought away, I felt a sense of contentment wash over me; he is truly opening up to me, I can see it more and more. How I wish I could stay here with him, reading and exploring and talking.

"Alright" I said sadly, realizing I had to return to the world below, and Quasi realized that as well for he frowned. He left the bedroom as I unpacked the leather satchel and donned on my fine red gown once again, no longer feeling like a princess, but rather a prisoner on their way to meet their dreadful fate. I brushed through my hair with a comb and put it in a tight braid, placing my cap back on since I have been in a house of God, so my head must be covered. I quickly rolled my stockings back up and laced up my fine leather boots whilst I stared at my stony expression in the looking glass. There, there is lady Adeline, the girl who reads and is engaged and attends parties as a pawn in someone else's game. I folded Esmerelda's clothing and stored it back in the satchel, hiding it in Quasimodo's nook of a closet where it would not be found. I sighed at my reflection before turning away, pressing my hand down on my head to flatten my curls with a sigh.

Time to leave this place. When I opened the drapes to the bedroom, Quasimodo was waiting for me. He was sitting at the table with two plates full of fruit, cheese, and bread to eat, and I smiled at the normalcy of the action. As if we regularly took breakfast together in his home. How I wish each day could be this way.

"I am sorry for blubbering on you this morning" I told him once I had swallowed the grape I was chewing, my cheeks flushing brightly in remembrance, and Quasi looked up from his bread with a devious smile, as if he was waiting for me to address my earlier meltdown.

"It is quite alright, I have read many books about overemotional females, so you were a wonderful demonstration. Thank you for the experience" he teased lightly, while saluting me with a piece of a banquette.

My jaw dropped with surprise, and suddenly we both burst into laugher that rang off of the walls and the bells surrounding us, causing the birds to fly from the balcony and into the spring sun. We finished eating, chatting about novels we had enjoyed and avoiding talk of the outside world.

"Yes, I have heard of he explorer Galileo, but since he has fallen out of favor with the church my father prohibits me from reading his work" I said with a grimace as I finished my mead and gazed around the loft, taking in the simple beauty of it one final time. Quasimodo seemed to realize the finality of my gaze for his own saddened and he looked away from me.

Unable to stand the sight of unhappiness on his face, I grabbed his hand in mine, "I will be back in less than a fortnight. I promise this to you" I finished with a warm gaze, and Quasi smiled slightly and nodded.

His eyes were sparkling and in the sun, and I could see the soft pink of his cheeks. Once you became accustomed to the slightly off center eyes and the hunch, he became so normal looking! He will never be handsome, but he looks right. He fits here perfectly, he is warm and his body was so strong when he held me to rescue me from the bells and my fears. Before I realized I was leaning closer to his face, gazing at his lips and wondering how they would feel over mine own.

Then I realized I had been about to kiss Quasimodo and I jerked away, huffing in annoyance with myself while Quasi stared at me in confusion.

"Are you quite alright?" He asked, and I nodded while looking away, knowing my blush was high on my cheeks. Damn my fair completion. I have never kissed anyone before, and my curiosity almost led me to be unfaithful. For although I feel little for Phoebus, other than apathy, I am still to be his bride.

Unfortunately.

"Do you ever wish you had a different life?" I asked Quasimodo as he stared out over the city of Paris. We are so above them all here. All the danger and hurt from yesterday disappears. I looked over the city as well, smiling at the beauty and serenity of the morning that is filled with a bit of regret.

"For once, no" he said, and when I looked back to him I realized he had been gazing at me with a pointed smile, and I laughed at nudged his side playfully, which only added to his contented grin. He took one last long gaze at me, before he sighed and stood, "it is time to leave," he muttered and he led the way down the numerous staircases in silence until we reached the alcove from last night.

"If he says he searched the Cathedral, say you were in confession during that time he searched the alcove" Quasimodo said seriously, and I nodded to show I understood. This is a dangerous scenario, and I must show I am genuine or I could die.

I graced Quasi with one last smile, and impulsively, a kiss on the cheek once again before walking out of the alcove and into the light of the main Cathedral, feeling Quasi's watchful gaze on my back. I sat down in the pew to pray, knowing a guard would have spotted me, and I did not wait long before Phoebus came running in, with the guard who had informed him of my whereabouts behind him. He stormed up the aisle; I heard his clanking boots approaching, and I longed to run up to the tower to be with Quasi.

But I cannot.

As I clasped my hands, I began to pray for Quasimodo, for justice, and for love.

"Where have you been!?" Phoebus demanded once I was in hearing range, but I did not turn around, rather stayed with my head bowed in devote prayer. Phoebus bristled as I took my time finishing my prayer and giving the sign of the cross before I looked to him coldly, and he stepped back from my hateful gaze.

"I came here to pray yesterday after that horrific display in the square" I said steadily, applauding myself internally about keeping a calm demeanor, "and I have been in devout prayer and confession all night. Why, have you been searching for me all night? I was there" I gestured vaguely to the alcove with the tapestries and candles, "all night."

Phoebus' anger was palpable, and I shrank back in spite of myself, "how dare you disobey my direct orders to stay put! Your parents have been worried sick at your disappearance, and there is a mad gypsy woman loose within these walls as we speak!" He practically yelled, and I inwardly cackled at the description of me being insane.

"Shhh, calm yourself Captain, we are in a house of God" I whispered in a condescending manner, and Phoebus let out a barbaric cry as he grabbed my arm to pull me from my pew and drag me out of Notre Dame. I glanced over my shoulder, wishing to see a pair of clear blue eyes once more, and then I was gone from the place I had grown to love in the past day.

How am I to face this alone?

 

***********************************

It had been one week since I had been taken from Notre Dame by my murderous fiancé, and I had rarely left my room. Preferring to sit at my window sill to stare at Notre Dame, or rather, the south tower where I knew Quasimodo was. How I missed him.

It seems odd that I would be capable of missing someone after only a few days, since I rarely enjoyed other's company, but I missed Quasi and the way he made me laugh or told me stories of the bells. I knew I needed to return, but I was unsure as to how to escape my parents. Both had their watchful eyes on me all week, and I had been in bed for the first few days from the beatings my father had given me after my disobedience.

The bruises were just beginning to heal now, taking on a yellow-tint.

I sighed as I stared out of my prison, wishing that my life was different. I heard my door open without preamble, and I turned to see my mother standing in the doorway, her face shadowed by the darkness, and I turned back to look outside, disinterested in whatever insults she had come to fling this time.

"What is it?" I asked after a few minutes of silence, without turning back to face her, and I heard her shut the door forcefully and march closer to me.

"Phoebus has just come to us. He wishes to marry you, though heaven knows why, within the week" she said coldly, and I flinched from the unfeeling nature of her voice. My mother will have no pity for me now, not after my excursion almost bringing the family honor into question. After all, I could have been with a man overnight.

Sufficient to say they do not know of Quasi. And they never will.

"You are to be married in two days, at Notre Dame. It is a great honor to be married in the Cathedral, and your father's family has wed there since the 1300s. You will honor our wishes and be gracious," she hissed when she saw me tense with fury, "and silent. The only words I will hear from you are your marriage vows, is that understood?" I nodded silently, knowing there was no point in arguing. They have won, and I will soon be wed.

Suddenly I ached to see Quasi more than ever. I must go to him, tonight.

I heard my mother stalk to the door and slam it closed just as I said, "Goodnight."

As soon as the house was silent, I slipped into my old boots with the worn heel and my green travel dress. I quietly crept through our estate, thankful I did not run into any of the servants, and snuck out the side door after grabbing a black cloak from the servant's closet. As I walked over the bridge to Notre Dame, I pondered my imminent wedding. If I had never met Quasimodo I would have accepted my fate with resigned silence.

But I had met him, and we shared a connection that surpassed any I could have dreamed of. And over the past week I had thought about my affection towards him, and I realized that my feelings were not entirely platonic. I wished to kiss him, and to allow him to hold me. I blushed at my ridiculous thoughts, even if I did wish for more with Quasi, it is impossible.

I am to be married, and Quasi would not be interested in me. Even if he finds me beautiful, I am merely the woman who saved him, nothing more. He became my friend at my behest, but it is painfully obvious he is uncomfortable addressing me as my name, let alone any other sort of affectionate epithet.

I arrived at the large oak doors in a timely fashion, and the saints carved into the stone seemed to take pity on my form, casting their stone eyes upon me with sadness. I shook off the feeling of nervousness, Quasi knew I would come back since I had promised. I silently entered and saw many people praying to the monstrance at the front of the massive Cathedral. I hurriedly walked back towards the alcove and up the winding staircases to reach the south tower. A

s I reached the joining hall between the towers, I looked out upon the city of Paris. With the moonlight streaming down upon the villagers houses, it looked so peaceful. It is the people who cause it to become a city of sin.

I shook off my troubles and stayed for a moment longer, closing my eyes agains the springtime wind and allowing the cool breeze to wash away my fears.

"Adeline?" I heard the wind whisper, but when I felt a body crush itself to mine I knew it was no wind. No, it was Quasi, "I missed you" he said quietly into the night.

"I missed you too" I whispered brokenly, and suddenly the fact I was to be married in less than two days settled upon my shoulders and I began to shake from anger and fear, "I am to be married to Phoebus in two days" I told him in a rush, and I felt his body tense and draw away from mine. How I wished to pull him back, to be my anchor of strength, but I knew we must face this: "my parent's told me he is impatient of waiting, and we will be wed on Thursday morn... I am so frightened Quasi" I whispered weakly, finding it difficult to admit out-loud but needing someone.

He stared into my eyes with such profound sadness, that I reached out to gently cup his face with my hands for comfort. I touched each part of his face lightly, from his crooked eyes to his pink cheeks, and he gasped softly when my fingers lingered upon his full lips before drawing away.

Before I realized what was happening, I stood up on my toes to reach his face with mine, pausing for a brief moment before gently touching our lips together. We both gasped at the action, closing our eyes simultaneously. The kiss was brief, very sweet, and as we gently moved our lips together, our mouths curved up into smiles as we enjoyed the interlude from our insane circumstances, before we drew away and stared into each other's eyes with latent chagrin.

My mind was a whirlwind of confused emotions. I had just kissed him.... Was it unwarranted? Would he be upset at my brazen actions?

As I stared into his blue eyes, I realized he was equally as shocked as I was. Quasi was still for a moment longer, before he quietly took my hand and led us both to the south tower, our chests still heaving from the kiss and resulting breathlessness. Neither of us spoke until we reached the loft, and I immediately went out to the balcony to calm my heated face. How could I have kissed a man I met a week ago? It matters little that he is my friend, we barely know anything of the other. Although... I know nothing of Phoebus, and we are to be married before the week's end.

Damn these confusing emotions.

As my mind whirled with etiquette, propriety, and morality, Quasimodo stood behind me slightly, touching his lips reverently and sighing in a besotted manner. I heard and saw his actions and my tense body relaxed somewhat. So my kiss was not unwanted, just unexpected.

"I have never been kissed before" Quasi remarked softly, and I restrained a chuckle at the utterly bemused tone of voice, as if he was both elated and confused as to why, "did you kiss me, thinking of Phoebus?" I was silent for a moment, pondering telling him the truth. The truth that I believe I am becoming infatuated with him more and more.

"Do you regret it, kissing me? " He asked softly after I had been silent for a few minutes, and my heart ached from the vulnerability I heard from his tone.

"Of course not!" I said, turning to face him and yet avoiding his eyes, still embarrassed by my actions, "I disapprove of Phoebus and resent our coupling, but I would never regret k-kissing you" I stuttered out, humiliated to have to elaborate on the presumptuous display of affection, "I was, and still am, shocked by my unladylike actions, that is all" I finished with a huff, turning to face the city once again and to avoid Quasi's growing smile as he took in my blush. I wrapped my arms around myself from the cold, drawing my cloak tighter around my body for protection.

"Well, as you have said, you are not ladylike. And I do not mind one bit" Quasi teased as he reached out to grab my hand to warm it, and I grinned in a shy manner despite myself, still refusing to meet his knowing gaze. 

He pulled me towards him, and I faced him once again. He wrapped his muscled arms around my shivering body to hold me close, and I sighed and burrowed into his chest in a besotted manner. As I listened to his steady heartbeat, my elation at our new formed intimacy was shadowed by the realization of my predicament. I wish we could live this way forever, but I know we will never be so lucky. I must wed Phoebus in a matter of days, right underneath the home of the man I love.

I stopped breathing at the thought for a moment...had I just admitted to loving Quasi? Do I even know what love is?

How can I possible know love? I have lived a completely loveless existence. My family is based on the ideals of political and financial gain; the ability to show superiority and icy apathy in any given situation.

But against those odds I do... I love Quasimodo. I believe I have loved him since I saw him that day in the square, when I shed tears over his plight and could not understand why. Which makes the fact I must be wed this very week to the man who called him a "creature" all the more abhorrent.

He is my inexorable love, my soul mate as insane as it seems; and our fates are twined together so tightly that I, somehow, fell in love with a man I hardly know. As my head and heart battled for dominance, my thought pattern brought me back to the issue currently at hand.

"What are we going to do, Quasi?" I asked weakly after a moment, and he just sighed whilst shaking his head.

"I do not know, Adie. But know this" he swallowed nervously, and I leaned up to gaze into his eyes. His own gleamed in the moonlight from his obvious adoration for me, and I smiled brightly at the knowledge I was cared for deeply by at him. He may not yet love the way I love him, but as long as we are together, he will come to accept my love for him, even if it can never be returned: "I will do everything in my power to stop the wedding" and I simply nodded. I knew by the conviction in his eyes that he was not lying.

We will stop this wedding, no matter the cost.

We walked inside, our hands still entwined, and I felt truly contented for the first time in my life. Even if nothing can ever be the same after tonight, we will still be with one another in heart.

I looked at Quasimodo, truly looked, and I did not see the monstrous creature the Parisians saw that day. Perhaps I am different, perhaps I am also a freak of nature, cursed to live apart from the world at large due to my thoughts and feelings. But if that means I can be with Quasi, I will accept their scorn willingly. I have never been a bleeding heart, a woman who is swayed easily by words and vain attentions. But I am a reluctantly admitted romantic, and I know that a love like the love I have for Quasi is special and unique. Just like him.

I won't give him up. Not for all the money, or titles, or acceptance the world can offer.

When we reached the bedroom, I blushed once again, realizing sharing a room with Quasimodo now would be quite a bit different than last week. When Quasi noticed my distress, he motioned for me to sit on the bed and get underneath the covers, telling me I had nothing to fear for he will not lie next to me tonight.

I let out a sign of relief, and laughed when Quasi remained in the bedroom after I told him I must get undressed first for bed; it was his turn to blush then. He padded out of the room softly, and I quickly disrobed and laid in Quasimodo's bed, feeling quite brazen as I did so.

He came back with _le prince_ by Niccolò Machiavelli, a book outlying the autocratic regimes in Europe and how to rule a country successfully in regards to economy and monarchial rule. Quasimodo sat in the armchair next to the bed and began to read about how to become a successful Prince as I fell into a relaxed sleep, knowing no one harm would come to me with Quasimodo there to protect me.

The last moment I remember before falling deeply asleep was a pair of full lips kissing my brow lightly with a whispered, "goodnight Adie."

I dreamt of swirling colors, beautiful bells, and a hunched over figure gesturing from the shadows for me to grasp his hand. And for a time, perhaps the first, I felt happy.

 

*****************************

I stared into the looking glass in my bedchambers on the day of my wedding, and my vacant expression seemed acceptable, unless someone peered into my viridescent eyes; I felt as if I were on the way to my funeral.

My wedding dress is gorgeous, made of the finest silk from China. It is fitted to me, with a laced up bodice in the back and a ball gown style that I dislike, but my mother prefers. The neck is wide, showing off my collar bones and a bit of décolletage. Lace decorates the skirt tiers of the gown and sleeves with elaborate gold trim running down the dress like a waterfall.

My hair is done up in it usual chignon, with my veil tucked into the elaborate hairdo. The veil is a gossamer white, with spanish lace trimmed at the sides. I am wearing my mother's tiara from her own wedding, and my white boots are brand new from Asia. All in all, I look like an elaborate white pastry from the market, but I do feel very pretty; if only I was not dreading the events of they day, I might have enjoyed being able to wear such a frock. Alas, it is not to be.

"The carriage has just arrived" my mother informed me, whilst fixing my hair once more. This is the last time she will ever have to bother. How fortunate for her and me.

She turned me round to look at me once more, in order to ensure every pin and ribbon was in place, before stopping me and nodding once in approval, "you look beautiful, Adeline. Remember what I said, not one word" she reminded me tritely, and then she was gone and I was left to stare out the window to where my love was waiting.

I only hope our plan works. Quasimodo will come down during the ceremony, and immediately after the rites are read, he will object to the proceedings and we will escape out the side from Notre Dame and take a carriage to Spain.

I had taken money from my dowry to pay for the trip and Quasimodo had packed our bags. Once there, I will attempt to find a job as a ladies-maid, since I speak Spanish, while Quasimodo finds an abandoned estate or flat for us to live in since many of the homes have been abandoned since the war.

I nodded resolutely at Notre Dame, before turning from the window to gaze at my childhood room. I will never return here, and I felt somewhat melancholy for the many treasures I had accumulated from my adventures and travels that I will leave behind. But I will not need material items where I am going, all I need is Quasi.

I lifted my numerous skirts and petticoats to walk downstairs, ignoring the jeers from my brothers and the jealous comments from my sister as we walked to the carriages. I had already given a cryptic goodbye to Pierre, much to his bemusement, and I felt no need to address anyone else from the Lapierre family.

I rode adjacent to my irate father in the carriage, and tried to ignore the many cheers and calls of congratulations as we rode over the Seine and into Paris. Most of the parisians had lined up to see the daughter of Lord Lapierre read her marriage vows to the Captain of the King's men. I cringed from the attention, but nodded cordially to the peasants and townsfolk as the horse-drawn carriage stopped before the intimidating structure of Notre Dame.

I felt, once again, they eyes of the stone saints judging my actions on this day, and I ignored their heavy stares as I was ushered quickly into the Cathedral to avoid the parisians who were shouting my name.

Soon, they will no longer hold me in their esteem. I will become gossip, and in a few months time, a forgotten noble. The poor daughter of Lord Lapierre that lost her sense on the day of her wedding and was carried away by the deformed Hunchback. And our story will be passed down as a fairytale, teaching children the importance of listening to one's parents and looking and acting normal.

As I entered the house of God, I felt a coldness rush over my body. Before I could ponder my sudden reaction, the organ began to play a song that sounded distinctly like a dirge as my father marched me down the aisle as he once marched his troops.

I avoided the gaze of the Parisians and nobles staring at me, judging me, trying to understand my secrets and evaluating how well I fit into their ideals of a "lady." I lifted my eyes to the end of the aisle, to the Captain, and he stared at me in the same way as the other onlookers. I cringed back from all of the judging eyes, but my father kept rushing us forward until I was standing at the altar. My father placed my hand in Phoebes' hands- encased in cold, smooth gloves, and I scowled darkly at the gesture. Ownership, passed from a father to a husband.

I am no more than a crop, and animal, a piece of land to them. Only worth what my plentiful dowry can give. I glared into the Captain's fine army jacket, refusing to meet his eyes, as we waited in tense silence for the wedding to start. I distantly heard the Bishop commence the ceremony, and I felt my heart seize in my chest.

"We are gathered her today, in the house of God, to celebrate the union-" I discerned vaguely through the fog of my mind. We turned stiffly to sink to our knees, facing the Altar; our left hands still clasped together, binding our fate. I glanced upwards towards the crucifix, praying for Jesus to have mercy on me. My dress felt too leaden, my hair too tightly woven, and the Cathedral too balmy.

I felt I was in a furnace, although the Cathedral is normally drafty, and I willed for my bell-ringer to come save me from this nightmare.

My heart's wishes were thwarted when I heard Phoebus give his traditional vows tonelessly, his deep voice echoing around the room of his indifferent sentiment towards me: "I take you to be my wife and I espouse you; and I commit to you the fidelity and loyalty of my body and my possessions; and I will keep you in health and sickness and in any condition it pleases our Lord that you should have, nor for worse or for better will I change towards you until the end. I receive you as mine, so that you become my wife and I your husband."

My heart began to pound against my breast, and I felt on the brink of hyperventilation. The despondence I felt grew as each second passed, further proving that I have been forsaken by the man I so love!

I was able to choke out my vows, repeating all the same except with the added: "I give my body to you, in loyal Matrimony." I almost wretched at the words as Phoebus replied he would "receive it." I am an it. Oh, Quasi come quickly, or it will be too late.

The doors of Notre Dame were flung open with a crash. "Stop this travesty at once. I have reason to suspect that woman is a wanted criminal!"A deep voice thundered, and I turned around to see a boney finger pointing at me and black eyes dancing with mirth and lust in unison as he stormed down the aisle.

Claude Frollo.

"Where were you on the day of the festival?" He asked above the murmurs from the startled crowd, but I held his gaze and answered in a voice only slightly shaking from nerves.

"I attended with my family before leaving to pray and confess at Notre Dame, leaving the next morning" I finished, widening my eyes to appear innocent and hoping beyond hopes that he does not recognize my face. He did, however, for despite everything he is, he is not a fool, and I could see the calculating gleam in his eyes they roamed down my body.

I will never let him touch me. Je vais d'abord mourir!

The bishop interrupted then, "but, M'Lady, there was no confessional offered on the day of the festival as all the clergymen were in attendance" he finished, looking at me with a judgemental stare, and I gaped at him and the leering Frollo. Shall I never have respite?

"Yes, I thought so" Frollo sneered at me as my face drained of all color, "we had a helpful informant who gave us all the information" he said lightly, and pointed towards the tower stairs in a nonchalant manner and I gasped. No...It cannot be true, Quasimodo would never give Frollo information about me. I felt stinging in my eyes that I fought back against.

"Oh, yes. He told me that you dressed as a gypsy, freed him whilst knowingly disobeying my orders, and then lied about the fiasco to the Captain the next day in order to gain your freedom" Claude Frollo addressed me and the crowd as one, and I heard shouts of outrage and betrayal from the citizens and nobles alike as they had been searching tirelessly for Esmerelda. My eyes began to swim with wretched tears.

How could Quasimodo betray me? Perhaps... perhaps Frollo threatened him?

I looked around the massive Cathedral, and my eyes landed upon the rose window gleaming in the sunlight and allowing beautiful colors to stream all around the stone wall with the virgin Mary holding her infant in her arms at the center. I then glanced to the members in attendance for my wedding; so many faces, and yet not one I care for or who cares for me.

Well, they came to see the spectacle of a lady being wed, and now they will have a spectacle of same that lady being arrested. I glared at Frollo in disgust and took a deep breathe, knowing I was about to admit my crime but needing one final justification.

"Justice!" I yelled to the crowd, turning my head to glare at them all, the guilty, "Quasimodo did not deserve what you did to him. The Lord says we must protect the weakest around us, but you all allowed your judgements of his deformity to cloud your souls. You are no better than the men and women who contemned Jesus to die upon a cross. Do you not feel guilt when you look upon your savior's face, know you treated a man just as cruelly, even now? If I had not saved Quasimodo, he would have died from blood loss. But perhaps he deserved it, after all he is different," I promounced loudly, pointing to the crucifix whilst denouncing the men and women around me who had stood and jeered at Quasimodo a few weeks ago.

Nervous murmurs began to spread through the crowd as people contemplated my words and I nodded in satisfaction. I had spoken my piece, I can only hope the people will heed my sacrifice.

"We have seen and heard enough blasphemy; Captain, please take this woman to jail for her crimes against the country of France and myself" the Archdeacon said coldly, and without further argument, Phoebus grabbed my arm and dragged me back down the aisle of Notre Dame, avoiding my gaze and silent pleads for mercy.

"What were you thinking Adeline!?" Phoebus yelled at me as he threw me roughly in the carriage and told the driver to head for jail. I glanced at Phoebus, his furious expression caused me to flinch and I whimpered softly as I stared straight ahead, disbelieving the events of the past hour had actually occurred.

Somehow riding to your inevitable death in a wedding dress seems horribly ironic.

Phoebus refuses to see sense! I glared at him as we jerked about from the hasty carriage ride, "it was wrong what the people, Frollo, and you did! In the book of Pslams, it says to 'rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked'" I exclaimed, outraged, my voice shaking from nerves and fear of what was to come.

"It matters little your reasons, or your word games, for you disobeyed the law!" Phoebus yelled in rebuttal as he bound my hands tightly, and when he noticed the fear in my eyes he soften his movements slightly, "do you realize what Claude Frollo will do to you? You almost killed him!" He whispered brokenly, and I nodded with a nervous swallow. Yes, I know my demise was approaching.

"It was wrong what those people were doing to Quasimodo! Please, Phoebus, I never meant for anyone to get hurt!" I pleaded for him to understand, but he shook his head with a pained sigh and turned away. Everyone has always turned away from me... except Quasimodo. And now even he has succumb. God, I wish I could have told him of my love! Now...now he will never know.

The rest of the carriage ride was endured in tense silence, and I could not refrain from shedding one tear in the midst of my fate as I stared out to the desolate streets of my home. As I looked out now, however, I felt a stranger.

I was abruptly hauled from the carriage by Phoebus to the awaiting jail, La Tournelle, where I was flung in the nearest holding cell. I examined the squalor of the cell, and I cringed from disgust and fear. Rats were devouring one another and the cot on the floor seemed to be dancing with lice.

When Phoebus spoke to me next, it was a cold offering. He had gone from my fiancé to my jailor within the past hour. He held no pity for me in his eyes when I turned to face him, and only a diluted sense of respect for him kept me from screaming at his abrupt change in attitude. My beauty is not enough for him now, I suppose. I am so easy to cast away, now that I am tainted.

As he peered at me through the iron bars that I clutched with cold fingers, I felt his authoritative voice washing over me, binding me like the rope he had twisted around my hands to restrain me: "you know the law. You have committed a felony against the Archdeacon Claude Frollo. You knowingly caused a public disturbance, and resisted arrest by lying and disguising your identity. You threw a knife at Claude Frollo, intending to kill. You are found guilty of all of these treasonous crimes against the country of France, and you will burn in the square as an example of what happens to those who flought the law" his voice broke slightly on the last word, and I found myself gazing at him with equal parts sympathy and foreboding.

Phoebus cleared his throat and averted his eyes, and I suppose it is easier to sentence a human to death if you refuse to acknowledge their humanity.

"May God have mercy on your soul" he prophesied solemnly, and nodded to me once before walking back down the hallway we had miserably ventured down moments before.

And I did not call to him, and he did not pause.

 

*****************************

Time was irrelevant as I sat in my dingy cell, awaiting my death. What is the point of keeping time when you know that your time will soon end? It seems ironic that we spend our lives counting time, knowing the inevitably, one day, time for us all will stop. What was the point of keeping it in the first place?

I had long ago let down my hair and thrown off my veil. I asked the guard if I was to change into criminal apparel, and he simply sneered at me and said, "the Archdeacon wishes for you to be burned in your wedding dress." He gave a dark chuckle at that, running a finger down my cheek and laughing harder when I flinched away, disgusted.

And so I sat, staring at the wall expressionlessly and wondering why Quasimodo had betrayed me. I thought we had a connection... I thought he might even love me, but I suppose my ignorance once again betrays my rational mind. I thought of our kiss, and the night he read me to sleep before kissing me so tenderly...

I began to cry silently, but I hid my tears from the warden and guards, refusing to show any weakness in this place. Soon I will be with God; that is the only comforting thought that has kept me from pulling my hair out at the cruelty of being force to wait.

Honestly, I believe that is the worst part about knowing when your death is nye. Waiting for that time to come. No man should have the power to take away another man's life. Or take away their sense of time.

But we humans do so love playing God.

"Adeline Lapierre, come with me" I heard a man say, and I rose steadily and turned to leave the cell behind. I followed him numbly to a new carriage outside of the jail, but this was a far cry from the flower adorned carriage from the morning; this was wooden with metal bars surrounding it.

I swallowed and allowed the guard to help me inside. I stared at my hands during the ride, as they were folded in a way indicating I was in prayer... But in my final moments, I could not find anything to pray for. Except Quasimodo. I sent my prayers to God, asking for His forgiveness for my many sins as well as begging Him to allow Quasi to know happiness and love. If I have no other legacy on this earth, I wish for Quasimodo to appreciate my sacrifice and truly live.

We arrived at the towns square on front of Notre Dame, and I stared at the saints surrounding the doors with blooming comprehension. They had been watching me all along, and their eyes were warning me of the peril I was placing my life under when I saved Quasimodo from the Place de Grève.

Now the spinning wheel used to make an example of prisoners was gone in place of a thin oak tree surrounded by a wooden platform. Guards and townsmen were adding hay to the bottom of the platform, creating a bonfire. So, I am to be tied to the tree and left to burn, how utterly appropriate for all my talk of God from this morning at my wedding. In return for my biblical vocalizations, I am to die in an fashion similar to Christ, oh the irony!

I did not struggle, nor did I shed a tear, as the guards led me to the place of my execution and tied me to the tree. I will not show weakness; not in front of Paris, and not in front of the devil who stands in front of me. Claude Frollo excused the guards with a flick of his wrist, and in a moment he had gone from smirking at my plight to grabbing my hair and twisting my head back so he could whisper in my ear in a depraved manner.

"It is not too late, if you give yourself to me and admit your wrongdoings, I will take you from this place" he whispered in a voice attempting to be soothing, but that sounded insidious to me. I tried to pull away in desperation but to no avail as his hands clenched tighter around my auburn hair, smelling it with a lustful sigh as I wretched: "I will take you as my whore, if you admit you were wrong to save that deformed creature under my care and confess your devotion to me!" He growled possessively, and when he lent back from my ear to steal a kiss I spat in an unladylike fashion in his face. He yelled in indignation as he wiped away my blatant refusal from his face.

"I will never sleep with the Devil!" I roared for Paris to hear, and he paled slightly when a confused murmur spread through the crowd, for they could not understand why the Archdeacon should want to lie with a criminal.

Phoebus, who was standing in front of the platform on Achilles, looked decidedly shocked and then angered. I looked to my ex-fiancé and nodded, confirming his thoughts that Claude Frollo did proposition me due to his uncontrollable lust.

The Captain should never have blindly followed such a dishonorable man: "I choose to die with Christ. In the bible John writes, 'beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God. Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love.' I will not apologize for saving Quasimodo that day from your cruel-" I was silenced by a cravat being tied around my mouth, muffling my voice as I cried out in distress.

Claude Frollo took a torch from the guard's hand and haughtily announced, "for your treasonous crimes against Paris, and the attempted murder of a Paris official, you are to burn at the stake" he grinned maliciously as he set the hay at the bottom of the platform on fire and it began to smoke and spread quickly, "for justice, for Paris, and for her own salvation, it is my sacred duty to send this unholy demon back where she belongs!" He intoned while walking away to the tent where the nobles and clergymen sat, and I almost laughed at the irony I had been sitting there just a week prior to this disaster.

I began to cough as the smoke traveled around me, and I blessed my terrible lungs this once, knowing I would die from asphyxiation far before I would die from the fire burning my flesh.

I gazed around the crowd with watery eyes from the smoke, and I caught sight of my family in the nobles tent, watching my death. Pierre seemed inconsolable, and my father was berating him for his weakness. My mother, sister, and brother watched on impassively, and I applauded their ability to be so unfeeling.

Admittedly, I would have liked to have thought they would miss me even a little, but that was wishful thinking. The world would have been far kinder to me had I learned to be cold and uncaring like them.

But I do not regret my love for Quasimodo, for goodness, for light.

The flames rose higher, and my heat began to burn through my new silk boots. I clenched my jaw, unwilling to yell or cry out even for a moment, although my fear was threatening to choke me, along with the smoke. The crowd watched on in relative silence, most of them pitying me, a girl they had seen this morning on her way to be wed.

My viridescent eyes were beginning to blur from the strain of keeping them ajar, and I acknowledged that I was close to fainting from the fumes. My lungs were burning from attempts to breathe, and my heart was pounding as I struggled to stave off the inevitable.

The last memory I have is Phoebus jumping off of Achilles and running towards Frollo with a mad gleam in his eyes.

Then all was darkness.

I was swirling around, hearing clashes and wind rushing as seeing glimpses of red in the darkness. Is my soul searching for heaven? Am I dead? All I knew was that I was exhausted and everything was a jumbled mess. I was only sure of one voice, one voice I heard in the dark befuddlement that set my soul to rest.

Quasimodo.

I heard shouting, and then I felt myself being placed horizontally on an soft object. How odd, but I must still have my body. I couldn't feel anything, only Quasimodo. The world was Quasimodo for the moment....

I heard him crying to me, demanding I live, and I tried to nod but found I was unable to move my limbs or head to nod. I felt a distinct wetness falling upon my chest, and my heart ached for Quasimodo. Why is he sad? Are we both dead, and this is all an illusion?

Where is God?

Suddenly I could feel. I felt a hand tilting my head backwards and water being poured down my throat before stillness. My lungs were fighting, and I began to feel a slow ache run through my body. Suddenly I gasped for air, and my eyes opened to show a blurry Quasimodo who was staring at me in relieved shock.

"I- I thought you...I- You're alive!" I heard distantly, and I was gently laid back down before I could even begin to formulate a response. I was staring into his blue eyes, and I was home. As the world came back into focus, I saw a darkness in the corner with a gleaming weapon of some kind.

A dagger... but why would the darkness have a dagger? Wait, that is no spirit!

"Q-Quasi" I coughed brokenly, and as I tried to suck air back into my long dormant lungs, I pointed to the devil awaiting in the corner. Quasi, turn around, I willed him inwardly. Oh mon Dieu!

Quasi noticed my distress and he turned just in time to catch Claude Frollo's wrist as he had been about to plunge the dagger into his heart. I heard Quasimodo screaming at Frollo in anger as he stole the dagger from his hand, tossing it away in disgust.

"How could you" he growled at his Master, "She has shown me nothing but kindness, and you have shown me nothing but evil and ugliness! Adeline is everything good, and pure, and beautiful in the world and you almost took her from me. You lied to me!" Quasi raged in a voice so strong and self assured I stared at him in shock for a moment before beginning to smile at how much confidence he had gained before grimacing as I began coughing again.

I felt as if my lungs were attempting to dislodge themselves from my chest, and as my breathing became increasingly labored, I found it difficult to keep my eyes open.

Suddenly someone was forcing air into my lungs and water down my throat, and it took a few moments before I felt I could breathe without feeling as if I was about to asphyxiate. Each breathe now is accompanied only with a slight twinge.

I opened my eyes, longing to look into the beautiful blue eyes I had grown accustomed too, but instead found myself staring into dull grey instead. Phoebus raised himself from the floor and helped me up, saying "I was wrong, Adeline. Frollo was wrong. He is trying to siege Notre Dame and overtake the Bishop and then the Monarchy... As well as rid the world of us and Quasimodo" he told me quickly while walking me to the door, and I struggled to keep up with his fast pace and ridiculous words. Take over Notre Dame? Overthrow the corrupt Frollo? Is it possible?

As if reading my thoughts, Phoebus sighed, "he has enough men under his power to make the uprising successful. His ability to burn you at the stake without trial showed his true power, and he decided then and there to become the King of France, beginning with his siege of Notre Dame." I stared at Phoebus with wide eyes, disbelieving, and he nodded solemnly. We looked away from one another, the memories and emotions between us too raw to bother with at the moment. Action is needed.

"Where is Quasi?" I asked in desperation, and Phoebes looked flabbergasted for a moment before a look of understanding passed and he cringed, looking away guiltily. I reveled momentarily at his expression, since he played his part in Frollo's corrupt regime that harmed myself and Quasimodo. But I soon dismissed these thoughts as unproductive and followed my ex-fiancé out the door. 

As we stormed down the stone pathway between the towers, Phoebus told me of Quasimodo's heroic rescue; how he ran out of Notre Dame and jumped upon the burning platform to untie me before carrying me inside the Cathedral, barricading the doors against the confused Parisians, and making his way up to the conjunction between the towers to claim "sanctuary" over my unconscious body. I smiled happily at that, relieved that he still cared for me.

As we reached the North tower, we heard a cry for help come from the ledge around the corner, and my heart momentarily stopped. I knew instantly it was Quasimodo, and began sprinting, cursing my tattered wedding dress that impeded my path. We arrived just in time for me to grab Quasimodo's hand. I clawed desperately in my panic to keep him from falling over one hundred feet to the stone square below.

"Quasi hold onto my hand!" I heard my voice scream in its raw state, and I struggled to hold onto his hand, but it was perspiring from the fear and exertion of holding his weight up, and he began to slip through my fingers as I cried out to no avail.

"Ah, if it isn't your savior, Lady Adeline" I heard Claude Frollo sneer viciously, and I looked about to find him perched upon a protruding lion's head over the stone railing, holding a dagger within his boney grip. His profile was framed by the fire of Paris burning below, as many houses surrounding the square having been set ablaze due to the uncontrollable flames from the riots below.

The people were rioting against Frollo's army of men, and the streets were running red with blood and flames.

"And he shall smite the wicked and plunge them into the fiery pit!" Claude Frollo professed with demonic fire blazing in his eyes as he lifted the dagger high in order to plunge it into Quasimodo's unprotected back.

No... Bon Dieu NO!

Abruptly Phoebus leapt over the ledge to push Frollo from his perch. I watched, astonished, as Frollo began to fall; he let out a mighty roar and he grabbed Phoebus' arm in his boney, unyielding grip; they both toppled over the protruding stone and into the fires of Paris below.

Even as I cried out for Phoebus, I clutched Quasimodo's hand tighter than ever, and lifted him enough so he could gain leverage to pull himself away from the precarious ledge. He climbed back over the railing, and we sank to the ground in stoney shock. One more second and Frollo would have...

I began to silently cry, from exhaustion and pain and sadness that Phoebus had sacrificed his life to save Quasimodo, and I would never be able to thank him.

As we both sat on the stone floor, panting, Quasimodo reached to pull me into his arms. I allowed him to hold me for an indefinable amount of time, before asking the question that was plaguing both of our minds.

"Why? Why did you tell Frollo about me?" I whispered into the smokey mist about us, hoping Quasimodo could hear me and yet wishing I had never made a sound.

He sighed, "he tricked me, he told me he knew I had been harboring Esmerelda that night because a guard saw her sneaking up the tower where no one else goes. Then the next morning the same guard saw you sneaking down as, well, Adeline. Frollo said if I admitted to everything that he would spare your life and punish me in your stead... I was foolish to believe his treacherous lies!" Quasimodo huffed and leaned his head back, closing his eyes and avoiding my probing gaze. At least one answer is certain now, Quasimodo does care for me. After all, he offered himself as a sacrifice to allow me to go free.

I forgave his blunder immediately, for it was my fault for not being more discreet. Quasi continued in a quaking voice, "I was chained up here, exhausted from being beaten and whipped, when I heard the commotion from the square. He was tying you up, setting you on fire, and something within me broke" he whispered, as if recalling his worst nightmare, "I broke free and quickly tied a rope to scale down the wall of Notre Dame, in order to reach you, and by the time I had arrived Phoebus had forsworn my Mas- Frollo and the people were rising against the guards at Frollo's command. It seems he had a change of heart" Quasimodo said quietly as I began to cry anew, finally reaching the end of my emotional tether, wishing Phoebus and I could have found absolution. Apologized to one another and found kinship. Now he is gone.

Quasimodo stiffened and drew away from me until we were no longer touching, and I almost whimpered from the loss, needing his comfort and feeling unsettled.

"So, did you love him very much?" Quasimodo asked tonelessly, staring at the stone wall across from him. Well, more like glaring at it. Had I missed something? Why, he almost seems- he seems jealous?

Hmm... Oh! Quasi must be confusing my sobs for those of someone mourning a lover. I almost laughed at the absurdity of his comment, knowing Phoebus and I had no love lost between us, but I cringed when I realized I would be disrespecting the dead and his noble final sacrifice.

"No, I quite quite despised him... And how that saddens me, we never had a chance to apologize to one another. And he saved you! God have mercy on him," I cried out as tears once again welled up in my eyes, and Quasimodo leaned over to engulf me in his warm embrace as I sobbed from the horrors we had endured over the last fortnight.

The tears continued to spill down my cheeks unceasingly, reflecting my mourning in their wake. I felt wetness upon my head, and when I glanced up, Quasimodo's eyes were brimming over with tears and his eyes shone with fearful recognition.

"I almost lost you," he whispered brokenly. And I nodded, we had almost lost each other. What would I have become without Quasimodo in my life? An unhappy married noble, attending balls and raising children and having no voice. Now, I had a voice. A voice that had caused Phoebus and others to rise up against the evil in Paris. And my courage is thanks to Quasi. I leant into him, ignoring the cried from down below and the smoke in the air around us. There would be time for the real world later, but right now, I just want to hold the man I had learned to love in my arms.

As if his heart yearning for my own, he whispered, "I love you, Adie." The world ceased spinning in that moment. What... wait. H-had he just admitted to-to loving me? My heart began to palpitate wildly as I tried to find the words to express my absolute happiness.

I felt him tense as he awaited my rejection. I slowly tilted my head back to peer into his nervous blue eyes. I saw vulnerability, fear, love, adoration, and longing within them; with a smile I kissed his ire away, softly peppering kisses on his mouth before nibbling his lower lip and pulling into my mouth, wishing to taste him.

I saw his eyes grow wide before closing my own and smirking slightly into the kiss. I love catching him unawares. I opened my mouth shyly, and as he gently explored my mouth with his tongue. I felt him sigh, our breathe lingering together as we kissed away the demons that lay between us.

"I love you, Quasi... more than anything. More than I can comprehend. But I am content to be with you and uncomprehending in love" I said freely, gazing into his eyes and uncaring that my own were shining with unguarded adoration; pressing a kiss into his cheek and then jaw-line before settling back down onto his chest with a contented sigh, "I guess we are even now when it comes to rescue missions" I told him with a rye grin, and he chuckled while kissing the top of my head fondly, drawing his arms around me in a impenetrable fortress that allowed me to, for the first time in my memory, relax.

Paris is still facing a revolution between the commoners and the Paris officials. The world will always wage wars and bear heartless humans; the world will throw away love and kindness for the sake of righteousness. But for the two of us, just in this moment, all was well.

 

*****************************

My heart is beating out of time, and I grin at my reflection as I don't attempt to calm my ragged senses. 

It is my wedding day, and this time, I could not be more ecstatic. I kept rushing about my bedchambers, searching for the pearl earrings my brother Pierre just bought for me...

I moved back home after the siege, once my parent's realized how devious Claude Frollo had been, they both repented. Slightly. 

My mother begged me to come home, with tears in her eyes, and I conceded. I have not forgotten how they all sat there untroubled, with exception to Pierre, to watch me burn, but I suppose not every family runs on love. Perhaps we work because we are all so self-absorbed.

When I told my parents about my prospects for marriage, they became over-joyed. I snickered within my head when I told them about my unorthodox fiancé, and watched them gap at me as if I had lost my mind. When they asked just that, I told them perhaps the fumes from the fire had gone to my head, and they quieted very quickly after that harrowing statement.

I have been using their guilt to my favor, and I have been much happier since the day of my ex-wedding-jailing-burning-proposal! Well, we just call it "the day Paris burned."

Oh, the proposal! Quasimodo asked me that night to marry him. We were eating dinner alone in the loft, after changing from my scorched wedding dress and his blood-soaked clothing, when he suddenly became nervous and jumpy whenever I addressed him directly or touched him. I became worried he was in pain, and I asked if there was anything the matter. He shook his head no, and gulped before sinking down on one knee and reaching into his breeches to retrieve a simple gold band. I covered my mouth in astonishment. Is he...?

"I am not good with words, as I have never had anyone to converse with, but I know I love you. I adore you.  You saved me from my tower that day, Adeline, and you have saved me every day since." He paused to take a deep breathe, his cheeks flushed, "I bought this, last week, dreaming that someday once it was just us... Adeline, I would have never known joy without you in my life. Will you marry me?" He asked so quietly, so lovingly, and so nervously that in my usual way I began to cry.

Ugh, I never cried before meeting Quasi and suddenly I am more emotional than an ingenue. I immediately responded "yes! Yes! Yes!" Over and over as I cried from sheer happiness.

Well, 'responded' may be underplaying my true reaction a bit. I joyously yelled "yes" repeatedly and tackled him, before having a coughing fit from my weakened lungs. He laughed at my antics before lifting me gently in his arms and taking me to his bed.

Not in that way! We only rested....

Well, I may have suggested we do more than sleep in my addled state, but he said we must wait until our wedding night, the chivalrous sod.

Anyways, I found the pearl earrings and was placing them in my ears just as I heard a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" I called distractedly, gazing at my appearance with satisfaction for once. I am glowing with happiness; my dress is very simple, and very elegant. This dress is the polar opposite of my first wedding dress. First, the skirt is not full, but rather it falls simply down to pool at my feet. I have a belt that encircles around my hips and plunges to the floor with intricate celtic designs, and the trumpet sleeves are wide but not as long as I am used too. The dress is simple, elegant, and I feel like myself. I cannot wait to see what my bride-groom is wearing!

"Adeline, the carriage is waiting" my mother told me from the doorway, cringing slightly when I turned to look her in the eyes. I knew that she felt guilt about abandoning me at my execution, and I also knew that she regretted her past treatment towards me.

But I will never forget about her blatant neglect for my well-being, and her treatment of me as a child. But she is my mother, and I will always care about her, so I graced her with a small smile as I gathered my veil about me to head downstairs. She stopped me at the doorway, briefly pulling me into her embrace, "you look absolutely lovely, Adeline" she said before disappearing back down the hallway to the carriages. I shook my head exasperatedly, even when my mother is trying to be nice, it is always about my appearance! Honnêtement!

I suppose that is something that matters greatly to her, and it is as much of a bonding moment as we are ever going to achieve, so I pulled on a smile and thought about today. My wedding day! To someone I love! I truly never thought God would smile upon me. And now He has. Perhaps he was all along, and I was too caught up in the chaos to see.I can hardly believe it is truly happening!

As we rode to Notre Dame, I was struck my deja vu at the feeling. Was it truly only a month ago since my wedding to Phoebus? I still think of him, and although I realize it is not conducive to feel regret, I do so wish we could have been parted from this life as friends.

I dismissed my melancholy feelings to focus on my imminent happiness. Happiness seems unimportant until you finally achieve it, and then you wonder how you spent your life living without such an essential part of your whole self. This carriage ride is nothing, however, like the last.

Firstly, no townspeople were there cheering as we rode by. No one knew of my wedding, except for my family and the clergymen who would be attending. I am sure the rumors will spread about how "poor Lady Adeline" became sick in the head and married, not only beneath her, but to a deformed bell-ringer! Oh, horrors! _Combien terrible pour elle!_

I snickered at the thought and my brother Pierre, who was sitting next to me and holding my hand, offered a sly grin as if he knew about my mischievous thoughts. Pierre had been the only one in the family who approved of Quasimodo from the start, because he knew I would fall in love with someone different.

Someone unique.

I smiled at him warmly, before pecking his cheek, much to his chagrin. I watched with growing joy as Notre Dame became nearer through the window. To think, soon I will be wed and living with Quasimodo in the great Cathedral I had grown up adoring.

The fact we are to live in Notre Dame, however, is still an object of contention. The bishop, who had always adored Quasimodo and had cared for him from afar, is graciously allowing us to live in Quasimodo's quarters. The other clergy members were uncomfortable with the idea of a man and wife being together in the house of God, until the Bishop pointed out that our union was equally as sacred as their vows to the Holy Orders.

Still, I believe it will be odd to be together, intimately, in Notre Dame. But Quasimodo assured me that nothing could be more proper or loving.

When we arrived at Notre Dame, I was helped out of the carriage by Pierre before taking my irate Father's arm. The large oak doors were opened and shut tightly behind us by royal guards as we entered; excluding everyone from the Cathedral until the proceedings were over. I was thusly dragged, once again, down the aisle.

This time, however, I could not stand the wait to reach my love. I was ready to race down to see Quasimodo, kiss him, and profess my adoration. Perhaps this proves I am truly French at heart.

I gazed at Quasimodo, examining his frame and smiling from what I saw. He is wearing a simple green doublet, silver cravat, riding breeches and boots. It is easy to see his toned form through the slimming outfit, since he normally wears large tunic to cover his hunch. Over the ensemble he is wearing a fine black cape, and his hair is combed back from his eyes in gentle waves. His slightly off center eyes were shimmering from happiness, and to me no man had ever looked more delectable.

The poets say love is blind, and it must be true.

Quasimodo was staring at me with love and something akin to lust; it caused me to blush and glance down, but instead of the panicked feeling I received when Phoebus or Claude Frollo sent me such a look, it now caused me my cheeks to redden in pleasure.

Good Lord, we did I become such a sentimental sap!? I truly am a blushing bride.

We finally reached the end of the aisle, and Quasi and I sighed with relief. Talk about a long aisle, the pathway from the doors to the altar must be half a league! My father gave my hand to Quasimodo, essentially giving me to him to take care of from now on, and although this gesture of ownership bothered me immensely with Phoebus, I realized I did not cause me woe. Perhaps because I know Quasi views me as a equal, and our marriage will be one of two people with equal intelligence, strength, and love. No ownership. My family and some clergy members attended, who knew Quasimodo, so we only had about twenty witnesses. And it was wonderful!

We choose vastly different customs from those normally practiced; we did away with the trinity ring ceremonial aspect of the wedding. For centuries in the church the bridegroom would take the ring and place it on the bride's thumb, then index finger, and the middle finger where it would stay, representing the holiness of the marriage through honoring the Holy Trinity.

Quasi and I decided we would like to place it on my fourth finger, since there is a vein there that runs to the heart. And Quasi has my heart forever.

As we knelt before the altar, we turned to face on another for a moment to see each other's shining eyes as we recited out wedding vows. Quasi and I made the same vows to each other, neither receiving or giving what the other did not also freely give.

"I receive you as mine, so that you become my wife and I your husband. I pledge to honor you, with my body and loyalty" Quasimodo said proudly, with a slightly blush, "and I will keep you in health and sickness and in any condition it pleases our Lord that you should have, nor for worse or for better will I change towards you until the end." He finished softly, speaking only to me, and I was so overwhelmed by the ardor and resulting desire in his eyes. The priest coughed rudely to gain my attention, and I spared him a moments glare before turning back to my beloved.

I spoke loudly, with tears choking my voice, "I receive you as mine, so that you become my husband and I your wife. I pledge to honor you, with my body and loyalty" Quasimodo smirked a little at that, and it was my turn to blush, "and I will keep you in health and sickness and in any condition it pleases our Lord that you should have, nor for worse or for better will I change towards you until the end." I spoke fervently, wanting Quasimodo to understand I would never leave him. Not for all the handsome princes, or wealthy merchants, or nobles in this world.

Quasimodo helped me rise from my postulation in order to celebrate the exchange of the rings. We stared into each other's eyes with such longing; and we moved closer to one another whilst grasping each other's hands in desperation, as if to prove our wedding is not a dream. Quasi stroked my delicate hand in his own, and as I peered down at our fingers that were so tightly interwoven, I knew we would never be parted by the restriction of time.

The priest shifted, obviously uncomfortable by our passionate gazes and words, before asking, "do you, Quasimodo, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" Phoebus and I had never reached that point in our ceremony, and I watched with sheer joy as he nodded before replying, "I do so promise."

He slid the plain gold ring onto my fourth finger, and I watched as it reflected the colors from the rose window. I glanced up to view the magnificent colors dancing about the surfaces of the Cathedral, and I knew God was smiling upon us on this day.

"And do you, Adeline, take this man to be your lawfully wedding husband?" The priest asked slowly whist staring me down, as if challenging my decision to tie myself to Quasimodo, and I glared at him before announcing without doubt, "I do so promise." I gently slid a plain gold ring on his broad left finger, and Quasimodo looked at me with such shock, I almost laughed. Did he truly believe I would not marry him after all we had been through?

"I now pronounce you wed in holy Matrimony" the priest sighed, disapprovingly, but we ignored his rude tone. Quasimodo looked to the priest for permission and when he nodded in cold manner, Quasimodo slowly moved closer, tears shining in his blue eyes, before kissing me chastely, running his tongue lightly over my lower lip. It was so soft, so sweet, I wish we could have stayed there forever.

Unfortunately, we were soon whisked away by our insufferable guests to celebrate with meat pies, cakes, and wine in the north tower. My pompous family was shocked by the beauty of Paris so far below, and I smiled at their reactions, remembering the first time I discovered this view.

I peered around them to glance at Quasi, who was perched upon the ledge appearing natural and euphoric. As if no entity on earth could destroy his jubilant mood, and I felt my heart constrict as I gazed towards the unbridled joy. I felt quite the same; however, I tempered my expression in view of my parents as I was accustomed.

Our celebration was simple, just an expansive table with some fine china from the estate. Quasimodo and I sat side by side at the head of the table, which is unusual for couples, but many sit this way after their wedding.

After a time my father presented Quasimodo with my dowry, a chest of jewels and family heirlooms, to which Quasimodo respectfully bowed and said, "I accept this gift in favor of your daughter. And I do so swear to honor her." My father was, begrudgingly, impressed by Quasimodo's understanding of noble customs, and went back to his seat to sulk at the fact his eldest daughter married a deformed bell-ringer.

"I do not think your family approves" Quasimodo whispered to me, after our brief hand-fasting ceremony. Normally, the custom would be partaken in before our betrothal, but since we were a bit unorthodox, we decided to celebrate after the wedding.

"I know they do not approve, which makes it all the more fun," I teasingly whispered back, and he gently tickled my sides for a moment before stopping, lest I release a giggle and 'disgrace' my family name.

After an hour more of festivities and stilted, but polite, dinner conversation, my parents and siblings wished Quasimodo and I goodnight.

I am ever so grateful no one must witness the wedding night, as was custom in the church only a few decades prior. Just the idea of priests and family watching Quasi undress me, laying me down with gentle kisses and..... Well, my cheeks flush at the mere thought of being seen so debauched.

My mother and father left after bestowing me with a cold kiss on each cheek, my sister kissed me cordially and John simply bowed. None of them acknowledged Quasimodo beyond a brief nod of the head, and I sighed out of resigned acceptance. My family will never change, but Quasi and I are above their hatred and scorn now.

Pierre was the last to depart, and he shook Quasi's hand firmly as if apologizing for our families brutish behavior. He then turned to me with a smirk, kissing my cheeks fondly and reminding me to write to him while he is away at University. My adored little brother. He gathered his cloak and winked at me, wishing me "goodnight and good luck," before I smacked his arm and demanded he leave this place of God at once.

He snickered and left, closing the door behind him and leaving Quasi and I in comfortable darkness.

Quasimodo and I slowly walked up to the the south tower, our tower, holding hands and enjoying the bliss of being together. No more hiding, no more secrets. Of course, we can never be open with the whole world about our relationship, but somehow that makes our union even more special between us. Once we reached the loft, I walked to the balcony in order to stare out at the beautiful city of Paris as I waited for Quasi to ring Big Marie, announcing the new day.

As I listened to the till of the bell as it rang out of Paris, I tried to stifle a gasp at how lovely the bright city appears in the moonlight.

I felt a touch against my back and I stiffened briefly, before I relaxed into the familiar body as Quasi gathered me into his arms, holding me tightly against him as the chilled night air roamed about us. We stood in silence for a moment, enjoying the peace and quiet of the darkness, his wide arms protecting me from the chill.

"Well, he have achieved almost all four elements for our marriage to be legal and sanctioned by the church" Quasi said quietly, and I could feel his warm breathe fanning my face as he spoke, "we were honored publicly, we both gave our consent, and you were given to me by your father and I have accepted your dowry" Quasimodo said with a smile in his voice, as he knew I was scowling at the last clause. Then I looked up and turned around to face him, bewildered.

"Wait, that is only three of the elements! We need four..." I trailed off at Quasimodo's knowing smirk, and I blushed and hid my face from him by turning forward and ignoring my burning visage.

Oh, Lord! How could I have forgotten the most important, and awaited, aspect of our union! I tried to pull away from his arms in embarrassment, but he held me tight and fast, not allowing any space between us as he laid a gentle kiss on my forehead.

Quasimodo lifted me off my feet, to my shock and then chagrin, as he led me into the bedroom I had stayed in a few times before. My heart was hammering in my chest as I tucked my head away from his amused blue eyes.

He nudged my head upwards from its bowed state and began to kiss me, until my toes were curling and I was molding my body to his, causing us to remain as close together as possible. Every shake and shiver was felt between us as we kissed. I suddenly felt Quasi's tongue sliding into my mouth tentatively which caused me to flush deeper, the sensation of that wicked tongue giving me a fluttering heart.

This is truly happening! No more dreams that cause me to awake unsatisfied, no more dazed daydreams at random intervals of the day. And while I knew I desired this union, I am scared of the act itself. What if it hurts?

He laid me down on the soft mattress, and seeing the distress in my eyes, he proceeded to kiss it away, peppering small kisses all over my face and finally deepening the kiss on my lips. I feel pliant beneath is talented hands and kisses, he was so fluent and passionate in each of his gestures of affection, and each new area of my body he touched caused my heart to race. He motioned silently for me to stand, and I did so quickly.

He then turned me around to unlace my bodice with deft fingers, allowing it to fall down my chest and arms until it pooled at my feet, leaving me clad in only my lace chemise. Quasi pulled me into his lap so I was straddling his thighs, and before I could refute this presumptuous action, he began to nip at my lower lip to allow him entrance, kissing my mouth with a fervor and gripping my neck to deepen the kiss at his will. I felt a distinct hardness pressing into my thigh and I blushed from the implication.

As we slowly rocked together, I moaned from the sensations and lost my train of thought until a starling realization struck me.

Wait! Has Quasi done this before? He seems to confident, and knowing about... Well, this aspect of life.

"Q-Quasi wait!" I demanded quietly as he nipped at my collarbone unrelentingly, and he grunted in denial, moving his ministrations downwards until he reached my breasts and began needing them through my chemise, "N-no, I have a question" I announced seriously, pushing him away gently but firmly, and he sighed and relented grudgingly. I laughed at his annoyed expression, and it softened slightly as he took in my twinkling green eyes. I remembered my distressing thoughts and frowned, glancing down and avoiding his probing eyes.

"Have you had relations before?" I asked so quietly, I was sure he would miss my vocalizations. But Quasimodo was always attentive, and he sat back in shock when he heard my query. I hurried on when I viewed his shocked gaze, "I won't be mad, it just seems as if you know how to... well, that is. I-I do not know where we are heading" I mumbled incoherently for a minute as Quasi continued to look stricken.

After a few more moments of my rambling, he placed a calloused hand over my mouth, silencing me and forcing me to peer into his disheartened blue eyes.

"Do you think someone like me would have known a loving touch before you?" He asked, looking at me seriously with no hint of wavering, and I inwardly sighed. I suppose it was insecure of me to worry so, and somewhat selfish. If Quasimodo had known another woman's touch at least he would have felt normal, but how is he so natural when it comes to the intricacies of intercourse?

"I suppose you have never known anyone else, so that would make it impossible, but how do you know of all these... intimacies?" I asked, feeling vulnerable under his gaze and cursing myself for broaching the subject in the first place. He did not say a word as he gathered me into his arms, kissing my head and speaking to me softly, although I could hear the teasing-lilt to his voice.

"Adeline, there are improper books a young noble-girl is not privy too, but others can obtain quite easily" he whispered in my ear, and I suppressed a shiver at his low, teasing tone. I had heard of such tomes being printed, but I had never actually read a book privy to such improper rhetoric.

He held me cradled in his lap, and I could feel a his mischievous fingers caressing my thigh beneath my chemise, "I assure you, love, there will never be anyone I adore as much as my Adie" he declared with a kiss to my temple as his fingers moved higher to pinch my pale skin. I giggled and nudged his hand away from my leg as I smiled softly to myself.

Oh, how I longed for Quasimodo to make me his.... I laughed inwardly at that thought, as I knew it was so contrary to my character just over a month ago, but now it is Quasi and I. And I wish to belong to him and have him belong to me in the way married couples should. I still feel a burning desire to express myself, but I never wish to be parted from my love in order to be free.

I am only free when I'm with him. 

When no further touches were forthcoming from Quasimodo, I swallowed thickly and grabbed his hand in mine. I could feel him staring at me, silently waiting, and as I traced the heart and life lines on his palm as I nervously spoke.

"I... I am not the girl I was" I stuttered, quickly continuing when I saw Quasi's confusion," No, I am the same in my heart, but I am not a lonely, disheartened person. I'm living for more than myself" I proclaimed, staring down at his chest and refusing to meet his eyes until I'd said my piece, "you make me feel like a woman, I feel strengthened by your love, and equally I am vulnerable...."

As I trailed off, I tentatively peered into his questioning eyes and I shared a secret smile, "I want to be vulnerable with you, only you can see me completely as I am, ugliness and all" I finished and blushed anew, taking a deep breath. "Well then, I suppose we should complete the fourth element..." I trailed off, mortified that I was asking Quasimodo for intercourse so awkwardly, but longing for him all the more from his teasing.

He quirked an eyebrow at me from the my contrasting sheepishness and boldness and he laughed at the blush that once again rose to my cheeks, but I could barely contain my excitement at our ability to experience the delights of the flesh with one another.

"You should be careful Adie, all that blood rushing to your head can not be healthy" he chuckled, and just as I was about to protest his being a berk, he carefully positioned me so I was once again straddling his lap. He began to kiss me deeply, he plundered my mouth until I was panting from exertion and want.

He kissed me as if he would never kiss me again, passionate and slow; he then turned me around to lay me on my back, and began teasing my round breasts through the thin fabric of my chemise. His teasing eyes had transformed into a darker emotion.

Lust, I realized with a gasp.

He stripped off my clothing, and bore me in my most vulnerable state. Quasimodo glanced at me and then away, suddenly becoming shy. As I sat, stewing in embarrassment from my nakedness, I realized that although this is difficult for me, it is perhaps more humiliating for Quasi who had spent his whole life being scorned for his ugliness.

I saw him close off, and turn around to face the fire so I could only view his profile, and I did not want him to assume I did not desire him. Quite the opposite, actually.

I took a deep breathe and stood slowly in order to unbutton his doublet and untie his cravat. Quasimodo stared at me during my movements with such adoration, I refused to meet his eyes; knowing I was affected so deeply by his expressions. When I reached his breeches, I took a deep breathe and untied them, pushing them down until they hit the floor with a muffled thud.

Quasimodo had removed his shoes, and he stepped out of his trousers to stand before me briefly, before covering himself in embarrassment and sitting down once again. I followed his lead and sat back on the bed, but continued to stare unblinkingly at his form.

When I continued to view Quasimodo without clothing as a barrier, I felt a tightening in my lower abdomen and the room seemed to set ablaze. I felt confused by this reaction, and I rubbed my thighs together absentmindedly to sooth the aching throb. Quasi is brawny and thickset, with strong pale legs and abdominal muscles. I continued to study his body, and I blushed as I glanced quickly to and away from his genitals.

He is well-endowed and my breathing quickened from both curiosity, want, and fear. How could that... that appendage fit inside of me? Before I could roam too far into my anxious thoughts, I glanced back to focus on his pert bum and I held in a little smirk.

The burning within my body was beginning to grow and the room smelled of fire, copper from the bells, and him. His masculine scent makes me feel protected and feminine, not that I will ever admit to feeling so submissive. I'd already claimed feeling vulnerable, and that is quite enough for one lifetime.

He is perfect to me, disfigurement and gentleness, and I would not take him looking any other way.

I knew Quasi was frozen in his self-deprecating thoughts as he glared into the fire, and so I knelt forward to press a kiss to Quasi's lips, cheek, neck, and then back. I turned him over to the place where I had been lying a moment ago, and I proceeded to gently kiss up and down his back and his hump, his deformity.

I straddled his thighs, and my movements came naturally as I gently laid myself down, molding my front to his back as I kissed and caressed him; as I pressed my taut breasts against his back, he gasped, and my mouth quirked slightly in triumph at my ability to revert his self-condemning thoughts.

My roaming fingers gently gripped his sides as I focused my pleasurable attentions on his back. Each scar and bump reminded me of the struggles he had faced, and my heart ached for his pain. His head was turned to the right, and I could see tears streaming down his face from the gentleness of it all, reminding me of the first time he cried from my ministrations of kindness.

My heart settled at the sight; Quasi loves me, and if we must be vulnerable, at least we may face our insecurities together.

I quickly became so lost in my thoughts and ministrations that I gasped in shock when Quasi sat up abruptly, almost launching me off of his back.

"Quasi, what is-" But he quickly grabbed me and laid me down before allowing his eyes to hungrily roam up and down my unclothed body. Quasi was focused on watching my mounds of flesh rise and fall from my nervous breathing, and I felt my blush rising ever closer to my cheeks.

What if Quasimodo finds me unattractive? I do not possess the perfect body, I am soft and curvy. What if he does not wish to seal our marriage bond? Quasi moved his hands to cover my breasts and he began to gently knead and caress each in turn. I tried to mute my vocalizations from his attentions, but quiet moans kept rising out of my mouth unwarranted.

I threw my head back in pleasure as he moved his head down to gently kiss each breast, using his teeth to nip them until I was panting and the ache between my legs was beginning to burn. Quasimodo suddenly paused in his ministrations and I groaned in refusal, willing him to continue, when I opened my eyes to see his boring into mine.

I began blushing anew from the heated gaze and my nakedness when Quasi finally whispered, "you are so beautiful. I-I feel everything with you. Every kindness I've ever believed in."

And in that simple statement, all my ire about not being beautiful enough candlelight and roaring fire danced off of our naked bodies as we explored one another and released the tension we had both been experiencing since the night of our meeting.

It is quite unbelievable that we can finally be together with nothing separating us. It is a blessing from God, and as we continued to kiss and caress one another in a decidedly shy fashion due to our inexperience, I knew nothing would divide our hearts.

Our passion escalated as we kissed deeply in a needy, intimate dance, and I drove my tongue into Quasi's awaiting mouth with inexperienced avidity. The blissful moment grew as I felt his rising desire ache and throb against my leg, and I squirmed from impatient want. I felt as though my heart might burst from love and contentedness as I lay in Quasi's fierce embrace.

When we first touched one another, in a way no one else ever will, we both moaned from mind-numbing desire. He tantalizingly stroked my core with teasing caresses, and my eyelids feel shut from the quivering sensations.

He touched me in a way I had never touched myself, and I could scarcely believe the intensive heat and wild pleasure I experienced from his calloused hands. I reached out to entwine his hand with my own, our hearts beating in tandem and the pulsing love between us creating a quiet, harmonious calm: "I love you" we whispered the as one, gazing at one another with naked emotion, preparing ourselves for the act of boundless love. 

My eyes pierced Quasi with a blazing look, needy and wanting, and he joined us together in a swift motion, our bodies melding together as the two of us became one. I cried out from pain momentarily- and he stilled, waiting for the shock to subside. I nodded tightly, and the stinging continued until his hips rocked in a circular motion and a sudden, intense pleasure ripped through my body.

I felt boneless against the exquisite feeling of fullness, my sensitive core now thrumming with arousal. He pushed forward and out with wicked slowness, his manhood throbbing and rubbing against my spasming entrance and causing my cries for more to go unheeded. Slow, so slow. Thrusting in and out, angling his hips to hit a spot that caused me to see stars. His hips rocking backwards and forwards again. Sensually. Lovingly. Pleasure was coiling in my abdomen, but was denied its conclusion due to the unwavering, tortuous pace of my beloved.

Even as I moaned for more, he kissed my head and panted through his desire that we wanted to remember it all. The way I feel, my moans, his sweet undulations of love.

My legs spread and my bucking hips met with each of his powerful, unyielding thrusts in our shared bliss. A lone tear pilled from the corner of Quasi's heated cheek and feel onto my face as he experienced my encompassing love; I wrapped my legs around his back to bring him closer and tilted my head up to capture his lips in a sweet declaration. After withdrawing from our long, sensual kiss, I placed my hands on Quasi's cheeks, burying my hands in his soft wavy hair. Our eyes locked and our thrusting slowed once again, teetering on the edge of release and wanting to enjoy the moment of indefinable pleasure and wholeness that surrounded us.

Without warning Quasi's hips snapped forward, and our moans rose together from our insatiable lips in our unbridled rapture, rocking harder as if to ease our wild emotions. Our euphoric cries echoed among the bells and over the city of Paris as we experienced unceasing ecstasy with one another through our mutual climax: an emotive tempest of passion that left us gasping for breath and clinging to one another, legs entwining and hearts racing, lungs desperately reaching for air.

Blue eyes met green. A torrential hurricane of love, dreams, and the idea of a lifetime bereft of pain or loneliness encompassed us, and both Quasi and I shed relieved tears at the knowledge that we are able to be together. We sighed while locked in our tight embrace.

Words were lost to us then; and as the lingering vestiges of awareness dimmed, I thanked God for our union, before I feel into a tranquil slumber wrapped in my beloved's arms.

 

*****************************

I woke up the next morning with a pleasurable ache between my thighs, and I sighed from sheer happiness. Last night was my wedding night, and I lost my virginity to the man I love... I never knew I would be so blessed. I attempted to roll over but felt strong appendages keeping me held firmly in place, and after a moment of tense wonderment, I realized it was Quasimodo.

My husband.

Tears welled up in my widened eyes against my wishes, I was so overjoyed that Quasi and I were bonded inseparably. I gave a happy sigh and attempted to sit up until I became aware of my nakedness. I clutched a sheet around my breasts as I began to squirm in his firm grip, wanting to find something more substantial to wear, some lingering shyness left over in the morning light.

He allowed me free with a grunt as he turned over, and I knelt over him for a moment after I sat up to look at his gentle expression. He looks so innocent when he is asleep... But he certainly is not innocent, I recalled with a blush at the delights we had partaken in the night before.

I sighed wistfully at the reminder and touched my glowing cheeks timidly, not realizing a pair of blue eyes were hungrily gazing at my sheet clad body and swollen lips with lust.

"Stop looking in such a way, unless you would like a repeat of last night" Quasi warned, and I almost jumped from the shock of hearing his voice, clutching the sheet tighter against my bosom and glaring at him for interpreting my peaceful interlude before the begin of the day.

"Don't be vulgar" I admonished lightly, "So, what shall we do today?" I moved to get up, my mind already stewing over bell ringing charts, chores and our meeting with the Bishop later that evening. 

He grabbed around my waist and pulled my back into bed, despite my laughing objections. He smiled his crooked grin unapologetically and moved to capture my face in his sleep-warmed hands, eyes seeking permission. I dramatically sighed in mock-annoyance and nodded. 

"I didn't know you'd be such a tease in the morning," Quasi intoned lowly, tugging at the sheet I was using to protect my modesty. I gasped at his forwardness but he simply grinned, watching my flush move from my face down my chest.

He stole my breath away in the next instant, and I felt his growing interest through the thin sheet separating our naked bodies from one another. I ran my hand up his scarred back to his hump, and held onto him as he continued to caress and move his way beneath the sheet to my body.

"Quasi! Wait" I exclaimed shakily, attempting to catch my breathe as he moved down to create love-bites on my neck and jawline. I tried to push him away, but he would not be dissuaded from his path, and he continued licking and kissing his way down my neck and chest, attempting to move the sheet away since it was hindering his explorations.

I began to lose myself to the pleasure, moaning from the onslaught, before I remembered my reasoning for stopping Quasi in the first place. We have duties to attend to, meetings with-

"Love, the b-bells ohh!" I gasped as Quasi successfully yanked the sheet away from my form and began to kiss down the valley of my breasts to my midriff, kissing lower still and causing my heart to skip a beat and a strangled cry to leave my lips when he finally reached his destination. He looked up with a wicked grin and kissed me in a decidedly ungentlemanly manner. 

But I wasn't complaining, I wasn't saying much of anything. 

We both lost our sense of thought after that and fell into bed, overcome by our desires. Thusly, we spent the rest of the morning blissfully entangled with one another, being together intimately and forgetting about the rest of the world.

And thus, for the first time in over twenty years, Quasimodo neglected to ring the bells.

Many of the Parisians did not rise from their beds that summer morn, unknowing the time since their despised bell-ringer did not part from his wife to remind them of their duties.

But Quasimodo and I could not find it within ourselves to care.

********************

As we lived our lives, I learned how to properly ring the bells, and we both became responsible to the city for reminding people of the time and the magnificent Cathedral in their immediate vicinity.

Together we became more open and sanguine as the years passed, the hatred and scorn we had faced left in the far recesses of our minds, through we rarely left the stone walls of the Cathedral, preferring each other's company to that of the world below.

God did not bless us with children, but Quasi and I never faltered; even after every fight and the heartbreak of being barren, we always fell into bed each night- holding each other and apologizing before expressing our love and devotion to one another. Our passion for life, knowledge, and one another never faded, but rather grew with time. I never regretted saving him that horrible day at the Fest of Fools, for he never gave me a reason to regret becoming his wife.

Quasimodo died in his slumber one night, late in our years together, and I followed mere hours later; our souls intertwined so tightly, they could not be separated from life and death. The clergymen did not discover our bodies until they came to inspect why the bells had remained silent, and our bodies were buried together in the church courtyard on a quiet summer's eve.

Due to my request, my family never spoke of my marriage or my whereabouts, and only Pierre was ever informed of my passing from this world. He visited our grave often, to mourn his beloved sister and esteemed brother-in-law, and my soul always smiled down on him and his kind wife and children.

Our names were not carved into the simple stone slab, the marker was empty but for the words, "L'arme la plus puissante dans le monde contre la haine est l'amour."

The most powerful weapon in the world against hatred is love.

And as the years passed in Paris and beyond, the story of our love became distorted and tragic- since the Parisians as a whole never knew of our marriage and resulting happiness- and my name became wiped from history all-together. Some people even pair him with the horrid gypsy woman Esmerelda....

But the love Quasimodo and I shared lives on through the love-lorn souls who come to Notre Dame to pray for love, loss, and hardships.

For we are Notre Dame, we are the bell-ringers, and we are the true story that lives on through the people who search for understanding and love in a world full of disillusion and heartbreak. We are the heroes of each other's stories.

Quasimodo, my beloved husband, and I, his Adeline.

**_Fin_ **

 

 

† Thank you for reading my first labor-intensive story. I had originally written it for my eyes only, but I decided it might be interesting to see if anyone else would enjoy reading it. To those few of you, thank you very much. †

Adieu

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunchback of Notre Dame, Edgar Allen Poe's poem, "Alone" or any other representation within the story. Comments with critiques are most welcome! 


End file.
